Frosted Rose
by Kayleigh J
Summary: Arrogant, selfish, spoiled prince Adam has everything he could ever want in life, so why does a simple servant girl with big brown eyes make him want... so much more? And why does her 'relationship' with his best friend make him so angry? He wants to ignore, but soon finds himself falling for her. Can she give herself to him in return? For who could ever learn to love a beast?
1. Welcome Home

**(Disclaimer: All rights are reserved by Disney. I own nothing.)**

 **Frosted Rose**

 **Chapter One - Welcome Home**

The ball was magnificent. But then, how could it not be? It was being held for _me_ after all.

Hundreds of guests had gathered at the castle to celebrate my return from my travels. Kings, queens, counts, princes, princesses and dukes from all across the country were all there to welcome me home. Well, _home_ might have been a stretch, since this castle was not technically _my_ home.

My castle, in the kingdom of Fairalia, had been unable to host the welcoming gala as it had been undergoing renovations since I had left.

I had been gone for three good years. Three years of travailing the world; meeting royalty from other continents, learning strange customs, indulging in unusual delicacies and even... coupling with foreign beauties. I had been everywhere. Tasted every flavour of the discovered world. Being a prince of a prestigious and thriving kingdom, every door had been open to me everywhere I went, and I had enjoyed myself immensely. It was only by my head of council's desperate pleading letters that I was finally compelled to board a boat back home. The only hitch had, of course, been, that during my travels, natural disaster had struck my kingdom.

It had been a small earthquake, not even spreading far enough to affect the very kingdom I stood in, but it had been enough to bring down several walls of my castle. Unfortunately, the only part of the castle that seemed to sustain serious damage was the east wing; where my rooms had been. All of this information had reached me right after dismounting my ship back home of course, so my welcome home gala was now being held in my neighbouring kingdom.

It was also where I would be staying for the next few months, or however long it took my servants to rebuild my house.

I didn't care though. Honestly, growing up, I had spent just as much time in this castle than in my own, as my father had been good friends with the current king, and I with his son.

Speaking of...

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur Vermont." I interrupted the blathering idiot on my council who had been babbling at me for the past fifteen minutes, "but I am afraid there are many people here tonight I have yet to greet. If you will please excuse me?" I left his side without waiting for a reply, leaving his chubby, red washed face gaping open in mid-speech. I chuckled silently to myself. My arrival had been long anticipated, particularly by the people of my kingdom, and everyone wanted a piece of me tonight. I had left the kingdom under the control of my father's council – as I was still too young to claim the throne – and had them send me letters only of matters relevant to me. I did not need to be informed of every single minor detail of court, particularly when I would have little say over anything until my twenty-first name day. Technically, I could have dispersed them all and claimed full monarchy rights without needing to turn the legal age, but then I would have been stuck with all the responsibility and unnecessary hassle. Better to leave the lesser issues for the lesser people to deal with.

Moving swiftly through the crowd, I tried to spot my old childhood friend amongst the vast assembly of people dancing, eating and talking merrily away. Aside from fleetingly spotting him when the king had given his welcome speech, I had not seen my good friend since the day I set off to see the world. He would have come with me, but his father, King Silas, had, unfortunately, forbade it. Silas was adamant that he stay, and learn the ways of being a king. His own coronation was only a few short months away, and then it would be for his father to decide whether or not he was ready to take the throne. My dear old friend had been stuck here in the same old place he had been all his life, while I had travelled and experienced marvellous things. And though I had missed him, I was rather eager to rub his face in it.

Competitive, you could say, was what we were in a nutshell.

His father, King Silas, had been like an uncle to me since I was around five years of age, my father and he once sharing a great friendship. The reason why he had agreed to board me while my castle was rendered habitable again, and the reason he had planned such a marvellous celebration to welcome me with.

The ballroom was lavishly decorated. Stunning dark blue fabric in my kingdom's home colour hung from the large balcony that curved over the golden hall. The many giant pillars that supported it sparkled like gilded marble, shining under the thousands of candelabras that had been lit for the occasion. The vast, high arched windows that covered half of the oval-shaped hall perfectly illuminated the starry night sky. In the corner of the ballroom, several dozen musicians played festive music as many people danced under a shining diamond chandelier and chubby faced cherubs looked down upon the whole scene from a lovely artistic mural that had been painted decades before my time. The whole event was without a doubt a ball to be remembered, and only the highest class of aristocracy had been invited to share in the occasion of my homecoming.

Across the crowded ballroom, I spotted the one person who might have some idea as to the location of the missing prince. Past the old fogies and beauteous princesses alike, the King disentangled himself from a young queen he had been dancing with. He artfully bowed to the woman, placed a fleeting kiss on the back of her hand and gave a nod to the woman's husband, who had come to claim her once again.

The old man did have an admirable way with women. I watched the young Queen swoon with an amused smirk on my face. Approaching his fifty-third year, Silas was an incredibly well-preserved man and had passed many of his charms to his son. His strong jaw, chiselled chin, well aged long dark hair and light blue eyes had all served to attract many women to his side, and to his bed. His wife, Queen Marissa, had passed before I was even born, only a few months after giving birth to my old friend, in fact. My friend had never known his mother and had been raised mostly by the castle staff, as Silas was always incredibly busy with matters of province. Honestly, my parents had been exactly the same, only I had looked upon my mother's face many a time before she and my father's passing.

"Adam!" The king called out, spotting me from my place at the edge of the ballroom. I had already exhausted myself dancing with practically every eligible maiden in the kingdom, and a few not so eligible ones - with their husband's permission, of course - and was now stealing a few moments of rest before I was pulled right back into the throngs of the celebration. It being my welcoming gala, I was the star attraction tonight, and all eyes were on me.

I knew I was a prize. An unmarried young prince, heir to a throne with no existing hierarchy to potentially interrupt my rights to rule – and also far from lacking in the looks department – made me an extremely attractive commodity. After all, what young girl would not dream of being a queen, draped over the arm of one of the wealthiest, most handsome young royals in the country? None here, apparently, which was why I was pretty much ready to call it a night. It wasn't as though I had not already indulged myself in some of the kingdom's splendour. Indeed, I had already danced half a dozen times with each of the Duke of Maddington's triplets, hence the fatigue. Each one had batted their eyelashes and draped themselves all over me, expressing their excitement at my return, and telling me how they would love to go off with me for a 'private _talk'_. I knew, because of my past relations with each of them, that each expected to be picked as my future bride.

Only I knew the unlikeliness of _that_ happening.

They were attractive; don't get me wrong, each with identical long blond hair and light green eyes, but there was just something so... boring about them. It wasn't the fact that none of them could carry a conversation for longer than a minute before commenting on how beautiful and desirable they were. They had always been vain, and stupid, all three of them. Since we were children, in fact, each one rivalling the other to be the best, and get the most attention. Honestly, their bratty attitudes and empty brains had never been a problem, because I had always enjoyed the attention they gave me, but really, it was more of the fact that they were just a little _too_ easy. What was the fun in prey that willingly ran up to you and laid itself down at your feet? I had always longed for a chase. Never commitment, of course, but a challenge. A mountain to climb. I had simply never found that in a woman, nor did I wish to. I was too young for commitment, and was perfectly content to simply skip from bed to bed until I was required by law to get a wife. Gods only knew how awful that day would be when it finally came.

"Your Majesty." I greeted the king cordially as he approached, bowing my head as was expected of my lower station. Even a prince, and an heir to a throne, must show respect.

He waved his hand dismissively at my posture and I rose in time to watch him snag two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing servant and hand one to me. He raised it in a silent toast and I parroted his actions before taking a small sip.

"How _are_ you, young man? I didn't get the chance to ask after formally introducing you." He bellowed, clapping his hand on my back in an affectionate manner. I almost choked into my glass. The old man was stronger than he looked.

"I'm doing well, thank you," I told him, hiding my stagger. "And thank you for the praise and high words of your welcoming speech, as well as allowing me to stay here while my castle is being rebuilt."

"Ah, Adam, you know you're always a welcome guest. You were raised in this castle just as much as you were your own. I am more than welcome to accommodate you while your castle is being rebuilt. Speaking of which, do you have any idea how long it will take?" He questioned, giving me his full attention.

"I'm not certain. My councilmen informed me that the builders they hired to do the work were 'doing their best', but I was given no definitive time of completion." I informed him, relaying the basic message of the letter I had received.

The king beside me scoffed. "I'm not surprised. It's impossible to get those people to do anything within good time, always fussing and complaining instead of doing as their told." He mocked. " _Peasants_." The word was a sneer.

I looked at the king beside me. He had always had a lack of tolerance for the common people, though, in all fairness, most royals did. I could recall little of my own father's views on the matter, though I did know that he had always tried to improve life for those in our kingdom under particularly deplorable conditions. Silas, however, did no such thing. Despite being born to royalty and the extreme wealth of his ancestors, he had always believed that a man should support his family without the need of assistance and that any misfortune visited on the family is their own responsibility. He simply had a way about him, a way of making lesser men feel inferior. And it did not stop with his contempt for the poor. I could remember the menacing looks he had so mastered when I was only a lad, and had always been thankful that those looks had never been turned toward me. He was a very refined and sophisticated man, but his temper was legendary. So much so, that I had even felt sympathy for my old friend when we were young. Neither one of us were angels as boys, and had gotten into our fair share of trouble. Only my father had never been one to raise his voice when disciplining me, preferring mostly to weight me under his disapproving gaze until I cracked and begged forgiveness. That had become less and less effective as I grew older, however, but this man's penetrating stare never lost its power over me, and I considered myself lucky to be in his good graces. So all I did was nod in agreement.

"Besides," He continued as an afterthought, "as long as you're still here, it will save you having to make the trip back for the Winter Solstice party and Gaston's name day celebration. It is only four months away, after all." He mentioned casually.

I was about to open my mouth to ask if the king had seen his son anywhere, when a familiar voice chuckled from behind us.

"I heard my name. I do hope you were speaking well of me."

Speak of the devil...

"Gaston!" I turned to greet my old friend. "It's been too long."

We embraced in only the way brothers could, slapping each other on the back. I hid my grimace at being crushed, as Gaston was built far larger than me. After gracefully staggering back, and hiding the pain of any fractured bones, I took some stock in my oldest friend. And dear gods, he looked as big as an ox. He seemed to have twice as many muscles as he had the last day I saw him. He wore a deep red tailcoat trimmed with gold fabric, a brown waistcoat over a white shirt, with matching tights and black boots. I pitied the tailor who had to make the clothing to fit my large friend. Honestly, he looked as though he would burst out through the seams at any minute. A small chuckle escaped me as I took him in, standing there next to his father. They had all the same features, same black hair, strong chin, ice blue eyes. If it wasn't for Gaston's size, one might mistake them both for twins.

"Adam. It's been an age!" Gaston belted out, his deep baritone attracting attention from some of the party guests hovering around. He was grinning at me, obviously taking me in as I had him.

"It truly has been! And I see that the years have been _very_ good to you." I half chuckled, gesturing to his enormous body. He had grown at least half a foot since I last saw him, and his muscles, well, it was clear he hadn't spent the last three years inside studying.

He chortled loudly at my words and we stood there laughing together like the good old days before I had left. It was as though nothing had changed at all.

It was only the king clearing his throat pointedly that brought our attention back to the social standards we were supposed to be exhibiting.

"Why don't I leave you two alone to catch up? Gaston," He addressed his son, slapping him on the back jovially, "try _not_ to disappear from your own friend's welcoming gala again, I'd hate to have to send a search party out for you." He reprimanded lightly, though he was smiling. Gaston grinned unrepentantly and gave him a mocking flourishing little bow.

"Yes, father dearest." He gushed sardonically and were it not for the king's continued smiling, I would have been worried for Gaston using such attitude with the man. It was only when the king was once more submerged in the large horde of elites that Gaston turned and spoke again.

"So, how have you been? Three years, you must have seen quite a bit, and I hear you'll be staying with us for a while? We'll have to see how rusty you've gotten with a bow and arrow."

I chuckled. "Ah Gaston, you haven't changed, still so focused on the hunt, but if I recall, the bow and arrow were always _your_ area of expertise, everything else was _mine_." I boasted. He scoffed, taking the empty glass of champagne from my hand and replacing it with a full one from a passing server's tray. Taking one of his own, he dismissed the young man with a wave. I barely glanced at the boy, turning my attention back to my friend.

"I might have to make you eat those words Adam, but nevertheless, you have to come hunting with me tomorrow morning. I don't care how out of shape you are," he mocked with a grin, nodding his head down to my smaller body. It was hardly my fault _he_ was the size of a horse. I fought down the urge to flash him a crude hand signal, "You have to be better than any of the imbeciles I've been dealing with these past few years. Competition is simply no fun when everyone around you are cretins and weaklings."

I made a noise of agreement at that, though I wasn't going to point out to Gaston that many would actually _let_ him win rather than actively seek to beat a prince renowned for hating to lose. He was like that even when we used to compete as children, though I was exactly the same. We had competed against each other tooth and nail for everything. From athletic prowess to the affections of women, we had always attempted to one-up each other. One would think it would have made us enemies, but no. We respected each other's determination, and had become the best of friends for it. Really, even having been surrounded by loyal people all my life, and having met quite a few interesting people on my journeys, I considered Gaston to be my truest friend. Because he was exactly like me.

"Very well, I shall join you, but only because I feel so sorry for you, all those years I was gone, reducing you to spend all your time with that pudgy little kid who used to call himself your squire." I laughed, remembering the tiny little boy who used to follow us around everywhere we went as lads. He had idolised us both, hoisting us up as gods among men. I'll admit the boy's hero worship did go to our heads a little, but what are you to do when someone half your size stalks you like a dog and offers himself up as a punching bag? Gaston and I had always been rough with him; he was just so pathetic we couldn't help ourselves. And the funny thing was, no matter what we did to him, he had always seemed to consider himself our best friend. I could never even remember the boy's name, referring to him only by the nickname Gaston had come up with; Lefou.

Not very creative, but accurate.

Gaston chuckled darkly beside me, giving me a pointed look. I raised my eyebrows at him as he put the fluted glass of amber coloured liquid to his lips. "Oh, trust me Adam; it's not just him I've been spending my time with." The smirk on his face spoke of a secret I had yet to learn, though I suspected exactly what he was referring to. I was just about to call him out on it, when my wandering eyes caught the sight of something I had never seen before. It was only a passing glance, but my gaze immediately snapped back to assess what it was I had spotted.

She stood with her back to me, in a black and white servant dress similar to the one the rest of the servers were wearing tonight, with long brunette hair piled on top of her head in a simple neat ponytail. Honestly, aside from noticing she had an attractive body, there was nothing at all special about what I was seeing, and I was just about to look away when she moved first, turning to speak to an older man also wearing serving attire, and facing right at me.

When I saw her face, I almost dropped my glass.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever set eyes on. _Me_ , who had travelled the world and indulged in great treasures from all walks of life, had his breath stolen by a girl in a servant's dress.

She was all the way across the hall, and my vision of her kept getting obstructed by the many people dancing past, but my eyes remained glued on her. She wasn't looking at me, though her body was angled toward me, she was still talking to the man in the similar uniform.

She was stunning. Glistening big brown eyes that shun brighter than any gold fixture in the room, little pieces of chocolate brown hair falling gracefully from her ponytail and framing her creamy pale round face perfectly. Red lips and rosy cheeks that only helped make the girl appear as the most desirable young maiden I had ever set eyes on. For a long moment, it was as though I were seeing her in a place with no time and no distraction, and then the world came roaring back when I received a sharp punch on my shoulder.

"Hey, Adam, you in there? I've been talking to you, you know? Did you hear a word I just said?" Gaston's entertained voice came crashing back to me through whatever kind of strange trance the pretty young thing had put me in. I shook my head to clear it and looked back over at him, only to find him staring in the same direction my head must have been stuck for so long.

"Noticed her did you? Well, _that_ didn't take long." He commented, but in a peculiar tone of voice. While on the outside he sounded, and even looked, amused, underneath his usual smirk I was sure I saw a hint of a sneer, as well as hearing an air of malice. It was odd, because, to me, Gaston had never looked that way before.

He was still staring off across the hall, and not being able to help myself, I turned my attention back to the girl, to see her now moving through the crowd with two trays full of empty glasses, presumably heading towards the kitchens to replace them with full ones. Amazing, but even while balancing two platters of dirty dishes and manoeuvring through a group of privileged expensive looking people, she was still the most stunning girl in the room.

"Who is she?" I asked Gaston in a daze, for surely he would know.

Having spent practically half my childhood in this castle, I knew the faces of the main house staff pretty well. I remembered Cogsworth, the head of staff and maître'd of sorts: a middle-aged, slightly overweight man who was a stickler for rules and everything in the house running smoothly and on time. Then there was Mrs Potts, who mostly saw after the kitchen staff. She was a kind, older woman who had lost her husband when I was around fourteen or fifteen years old. I hadn't known much about him, having not exactly gone out of my way to get to know other people's servants. I did know that he left her with a small toddler, a boy who had been about five when I had left on my trip. I pitied her plight, for she was a good woman, even if she was a servant. And lastly, there was Mr Feu, who was in charge of the animals and saw to the castle grounds. The only reason I knew of him was that Gaston and I used to go riding quite a lot, and either he or his son would always be in the stables seeing to the horses or helping the other stable hands. What was his son's name again..? Lewis? Luwi? Lumière?

Anyway, I had met or seen all the important figures of the castle in all the years my parents and I had visited here. As our kingdom was the closest to this one, father was always bringing us along with him when he had business to attend with Silas. We spent weeks here, sometimes months at a time, and I knew this castle inside and out, and so I was positive, if that girl had been part of the castle staff when I was growing up here, I most certainly would have noticed.

"Her name is _Belle,"_ Gaston told me. _Such a fitting name for one so worthy of it._ Though I didn't much like the way Gaston said her name; his deep baritone made it into a caress. "She started working here over a year ago, moved in with her tinpot father," He offered as explanation. I didn't know what he meant by 'tinpot' and was just about to ask, when the girl reappeared from the door I knew led down to the kitchens. Now holding another two full trays of what looked like red wine, she moved expertly through the crowd, stopping to offer a full glass or take an empty one. I couldn't help but admire her. It was truly remarkable, for I had never even acknowledged a servant girl before. Servants were not meant to be noticed. But if that was the true role of a servant she was not doing a very good job of it, at least not with me. And apparently not with Gaston either.

"She's beautiful." I breathed, still in awe of her. Even though I didn't think 'beautiful' was a good enough word. A familiar fire surged through my body at the sight before me and without realising, I took a step forwards in the girl – Belle's – direction. A large hand on my shoulder warned me not to take another.

"Whoa there Adam _,_ I hate to put a leash on you, I really do, but that one is _mine_." He declared possessively.

I turned back to look at him, attempting to assess how serious he was, and almost groaned in disappointment at the pure look of determination on his face. It was obvious that he could not be officially courting the girl, for her station was clearly far too low, but from the look in his eyes, I knew _exactly_ what he was doing with her. He _was_ serious. I could always tell with Gaston, because the only time he was truly sincere and sombre, was when he didn't have a smirk on his face. Most of the time he was pretty care free. It was clear he was determined in his claim of this girl, and it made me want to moan.

We had shared women before, Gaston and I, having both started becoming sexually active roughly the same time. With an endless supply of young girls and fully grown women literally throwing themselves at our feet, how could a fourteen-year-old boy react any differently? I knew Gaston had explored the Maddington triplets as thoroughly as I had, as well as some other, either needy or ambitious girls who hoped that by letting us use them, we would either feel obligated or fond enough to offer them a place at our side when we came of age. Gaston was only a few months older than me, and that meant that in just four months, on the twelfth of January, he would be expected to choose a bride, as was tradition before a prince could become king. In about eight months I would be expected to do the same, and believe me, that date was looming fast, but not as fast as I was sure four months was passing for Gaston.

He had to be really attached to this girl to lay claim to her against me, either that, or he just wanted to keep the stunning belle to himself. And what man wouldn't truly? She looked like the perfect prize; though really, she didn't look the type of girl who'd throw herself at a Prince, but what did I know? I knew nothing of her, and who could really tell what a person was capable of doing, simply by the way they looked?

"Are you sure I can't convince you to trade?" I almost whined, thinking about the exquisite brunette beauty, and how much more stunning she would look _out_ of her maids uniform.

Gaston chuckled deeply, his light-hearted demeanour returning at my tone. Clapping me on the shoulder once more, he crooned with false sympathy, "sorry old chap, but I have to mark my territory on this one. Trust me, you're not the first to ask about her, and I doubt you'll be the last, but _I'm_ the reason she's here. I'm the reason she's in this castle and the only one in this castle she serves is _me."_ He insisted in an arrogant firm pleased tone.

"I envy you, brother," I muttered sulkily, my words earning another boisterous laugh from the prince beside me.

"I know Adam, trust me, if I was you, I'd envy me to." He boasted proudly.

I joined him in his laughter, but inside I wasn't feeling all that merry anymore. As I watched the girl in the servants dress once again retreat to the kitchens, I couldn't help but wonder; who is she?


	2. Shoot To Kill

**Chapter Two – Shoot To Kill**

 **.**

I felt like hell. I had indulged in more than my fair share of champagne last night, as well as several glasses of red and white wine, and was now paying the familiar price for it. I had drunk _far_ too much, it being _my_ party and all, and had been determined to simply stay passed out in my room until the late hours of the afternoon. But Gaston being Gaston, wouldn't have any of that, and had burst into my room at an ungodly hour of the morning yelling at me to 'get your slack ass out of bed before I make you.'

I was now staggering through the woods surrounding the castle at nine in the morning. It was early autumn, and the cold morning air was biting against my face and fingers. My head was throbbing, and honestly, this squeaky little fool's voice was not helping my migraine.

"... Was the party? I wasn't invited, but I heard it was amazing! You must have seen everyone there! I bet you went to all kinds of parties while you were away! Where did you go? What was your favourite place? Did you meet anyone? I bet you met so many..."

"Quiet you, idiot!" Gaston hissed, whacking him over the back of the head with his hand. "Do you want all the animals to know we're here?!" He demanded.

Rubbing the back of his head, the little pipsqueak known to me as Lefou looked up at the overgrown man that was my best friend, and cowered.

"Of-of c-c-course not Gaston! I wouldn't want you to miss a shot! I'll be quiet! I won't say another word I promise! Not one more..."

Another hard knock on the head finally silenced the babbling, and I could not have been more grateful. The annoying high pitch squealing was really starting to get to me. I rubbed my temple, and Gaston chuckled at my suffering.

"Suck it up, lightweight!" He ordered, slinging his arm around my shoulder in a boisterous fashion. "How am I supposed to prove myself the superior hunter when you're off your game?" He laughed.

I cringed as his loud voice banged through my pounding skull.

"Why did we have to do this so _early_?" I moaned, lifting my musket more securely to my shoulder as I practically staggered after him.

"Early bird..." He muttered with a shrug, though his little smirk was a clear indicator that he only got me out of bed at this hour to torture me. He had been right along beside me last night; drinking and dancing and dancing and drinking. We didn't retire to our rooms until well after midnight, and I couldn't fathom how he wasn't even suffering a hangover when I could barely walk straight. I attributed it to his gigantic form. His body was practically made for consuming large quantities of alcohol and walking away without any consequences what so ever.

For the first time in my life, I was actually envious of someone else's body.

We all walked quietly through the woods for another few minutes, with Gaston at the front and me bringing up the rear. The only noise we were making was the slight crunching of fresh crisp autumn leaves that littered the forest floor under our feet. By the looks of Lefou's fidgeting, I could tell he was trying his hardest not to talk, or make noise. He wasn't exactly the most graceful of men, only two years younger than Gaston and I and a child could probably eclipse his height. And his intellect. I could see he hadn't matured at all, nor had he outgrown his nickname. A fool indeed.

After walking a few more paces, I saw Gaston freeze, and Lefou almost walks straight into him where he hadn't been paying attention. Gaston shot his fist into the air, a signal that he had spotted something of interest, and with a unique grace for someone of his size, did he crouch down low to the ground to get a closer look. I followed suit, moving silently closer to observe what had caught the hunter's eye.

There, some twenty feet away, a fully grown male deer stood in a small clearing. The magnificent beast was silently grazing on some of the overgrown grass bathing in the early morning sun. The small clearing was mostly overrun by trees, and the only light coming through the obstructing branches was the thin rays of sunlight shining down on the stag. A slow grin spread across my lips, identical to the one now adorning Gaston's face. He turned back to me, beckoning me closer with a silent hand. I moved like a lion to crouch right beside him.

"Alright Adam," He whispered, gently moving out of the way and letting me take centre point on the deer. "Let's see how rusty you really are. Take the shot, and if you miss something that good _I'll_ shoot _you_." He quietly joked, giving me a small tap on the shoulder. I grinned and turned my focus to the large stag. I was rusty; it was true, because aside from going boar hunting with a king in the west lands, I had not participated in this kind of sport at all over the past three years. And hunting had always been Gaston's forte. He was an excellent marksman, whether it be with a rifle or bow and arrow, his aim was always perfect. I had preferred sword-fighting and hand to hand combat to shooting. I had a better body for it. Not overly muscled like Gaston but not a skinny wretch either. I was right in between, lithe and quick. I had been complimented many a time for my appearance and skills, but my skills in combat were not going to help me today. It was unlike Gaston to give up such good game, but I had the distinct impression he was testing me. This was the first quality time we had spent together in three whole years and strangely, I didn't want to disappoint him.

I silently raised the musket to my eyes, holding it steady with both eyes open like my father had taught me. The deer was still quietly grazing the grass, completely unaware of its fate. Alone in the woods surrounded by sunlight, it looked so calm and peaceful. An easy kill.

Silently clicking the latch, I steadied the gun, targeted my prey and slowly squeezed the trigger. The thundering crack vibrated through the whole forest, jarring my headache and startling a flock of birds that had been nearby. Faster than I could comprehend, Gaston whipped his blunderbuss off his shoulder and took six continuous shots in the direction of the fleeing creatures. I was actually surprised at his level of skill as exactly six fleeing geese dropped from the sky and landed right in the clearing alongside the now deceased deer.

Gaston's whoop of celebration hurt my already stinging ears.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talking about!" He bellowed, clapping me on the shoulder. I resisted the urge to rub the sore spot as I rose from my crouch, grinning just as hard at our accomplishments, despite the pain. Looking back at the clearing, I could see the stag was laying perfectly still, a single hole right between the eyes. A perfect shot.

"Wow! You didn't miss a shot, you guys! You're the greatest hunters in the whole world!" Lefou squealed. Gaston rolled his eyes at me before turning to the little man.

"Well, what are you waiting for, go pick them up!" He demanded, kicking the midget into the empty clearing where our prizes lay.

"Right away Gaston, right away!" He stammered, staggering to his feet and rushing to collect the fallen birds in a large brown sack.

" _That_ is what I call a productive morning! Now, aren't you glad I got your lazy ass out of bed?" He laughed, leisurely swaggering into the clearing towards the dead deer. I shook my head and followed him, swinging the musket back over my shoulder.

As we got closer, I noticed the creature's eyes were still open; its pure black orbs staring lifelessly back at me. One might have mistaken it for being alive, were it not for the hole that lay still smoking, perfectly symmetrical between both eyes. It was one hell of a shot for someone who hadn't handled a gun in over a year. Even though the beast's empty eyes was eerie, I was feeling rather proud of myself.

"Ha! A perfect shot! Finally, a decent hunting partner! You have no idea how much fun it will be to finally hunt with someone almost as good as me!" He said arrogantly.

"Almost?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked at me, " _Almost_." He repeated with a wink.

I started to laugh, because I couldn't deny that I had missed this too; the competition, the thrill of the hunt, actually being in the company of someone who would challenge you instead of bow to you. Yes: I missed it.

 _Almost_. I thought snarkily, turning back through the clearing to fetch the horse _, I'd show him_ almost.

We came out of the forest nearly seven whole hours later. Between the two of us, Gaston and I had caught one deer, two doe's, twelve birds, one fox and a hare. Gaston, as a joke more than anything, had given his pistol to Lefou and told him to kill the hare himself. The kid's hands were shaking so badly whilst holding the gun it was difficult for me to contain my own laughter. Of course, he missed, the backlash from the gun toppling him to the ground as the startled animal took off running in the opposite direction. It was only my quick shooting that caught the thing before it leapt into its burrowing hole.

I had almost forgotten how much fun hunting with my old friend could be, and the woods around Gaston's castle were plentiful. It wouldn't last that much longer though. As the cold of winter was starting to set in, most of the animals would be either migrating or going into hibernation soon. Probably why Gaston had been so against my suggestion that we save some of the animals for another day; stating, 'where's the fun in that? You getting tired on me, you little _putain_?" I had snarled at him playfully and hit him back with my own little jab, causing a slur of insults to exchange between us for the duration of the afternoon.

But despite Gaston's boasting that he could go on all day, we were both getting hungry. We had brought some food along with us, but now with supper time fast approaching, we both had to go to our rooms and change into formal attire before we sat down for the meal. So by four, we had staggered from the woods with the dead animal carcases laid over the backs of both our horses. I got to keep the large stag, as it was my kill, and Gaston had already offered to have the head sent off to be mantled for me, as he had bragged about how many stuffed animal heads he himself owned, and about the fact that the local tavern in town had practically made a shrine towards him with most of his kills hanging on their walls as decoration. I had laughed at Gaston's obvious vanity, and accepted his offer, though resolved I would need to have a word with whoever would be doing the mounting and tell them that I only wanted the horns. The thought of having those blank empty eyes staring back at me every day made me feel... unpleasant.

No idea why, it just did.

Gaston had sent Lefou away, as he had neither the social standing nor right to sit and eat at a royal table, being the son of a mere baker, and all. We had at least an hour to get cleaned up before supper was served, and as some of the guests from last night's party had slept in spare bedrooms the night before, they would most likely be sitting down for the meal before leaving to return to their own homes.

After depositing the horses to the stable staff and laying out instructions for the dead animals, Gaston and I headed towards the castle to make ourselves presentable.

After a quick wash down and change of clothing, I met Gaston outside the informal dining room. There were two different dining rooms, but as there were only a few guests remaining in the castle this evening, the smaller room would be the one we would be dining in. The excited squeals that hit me when we walked through the doors threatened to reinstate my migraine.

"Prince Adam! Prince Gaston! How wonderful to see you again!" Three feminine voices squeaked all at once. The voices, of course, belonged to the three Maddington triplets as they, along with their parents and several other guests from last night, sat at the table with the council members that resided in the castle. The table was rather large, but because of the small amount of guests, there were only two remaining seats available at the informal dining table. I looked on in horror as Gaston playfully elbowed me in the ribs and wagged his eyebrows together before going to sit in-between the three Maddington triplets, leaving me the only other empty seat in the casual dining room; right beside their father. I glared at my friend, and he smirked back, clearly fighting back his snicker.

The girls' father was without a doubt the most boring man to ever burden this earth. Spending half my childhood in this castle, I had never thought I would ever meet anyone as dull or boring as Mr Cogsworth. For the first time at the age of eight, and then again at twelve, and lastly at fourteen, I had been forced to endure his 'tour' of the castle, and listening to the old man drone on and on about which periods of time the tapestries were built or from what era inspired the decor in the hallways… well, more than once I had fantasised about impaling him on one of the statutes of armour's spears. What I _didn't_ know, even while enduring the stale humour and pompousness of the head of staff, was that there can _always_ be someone more boring. Mr Maddington was the embodiment of boring, always babbling on about his many accomplishments in life. He was a duke, a high-born man who didn't lack for intelligence by any means, but he was just so... drab. So while Gaston soaked up the attention of the three beautiful girls he was sitting between, I was stuck listening to yet _another_ of Mr Maddington's stories of how he saved his profit margin a quarter of a cent each year by imposing a small tax increase on the roads surrounding his properties. Somehow he managed to make something like that sound like his life's most proud achievement. And I had no idea how he also managed to stretch the tale all the way until supper was finally served. In reality, it was probably only a few minutes, but from where I was sitting, it felt like a lifetime.

The servants filed in, one after another in perfect order to serve the food. Silas wasn't there, having sent his apologies through Mr Cogsworth himself, and assigned his son as official host for the evening. The only people at the table were a few of the party guests, the high-borns that lived in the castle to serve the King, Gaston and myself. The servants placed a dish of mushroom soup and fresh bread before everyone at the table, and I almost moaned as the smell hit my nose. Being the appointed host in the room, everyone at the table had to wait for Gaston to begin eating before the rest of us could. I looked up from the mouth-watering food to find him, surprisingly, whispering under his breath to one of the male servers. I couldn't tell what he was saying to the man, but after a few moments the man nodded his head, bowed at the waist and left the room. I sent Gaston a questioning look, wondering what that had been about, but he only shrugged and picked up his spoon, signalling for everyone else to do likewise.

The soup was delicious, so much so that I almost forgot the tedious old man still blathering on beside me. I caught his wife, who was seated on the other side of him, looking approvingly at her three daughters, all of whom were practically draped over Gaston in a very poor show of table etiquette.

I knew how much Mrs Maddington believed that one of her daughters was destined to be the queen of this kingdom. She was a sophisticated woman, high-born, like her husband, and attractive, like her three twin daughters. But she was also a cut-throat. A desperate social climber whom, it was rumoured, had had more than one tryst outside of her marriage. It had never been proven, of course, but I had always gotten the distinct notion that even if someone _could_ prove it, Mr Maddington would remain wed to her. For some reason, she definitely seemed like the one who had the power in that marriage, and in all honesty, despite the fact that she was a woman, it wasn't surprising, given how lacking Mr Maddington was in the way of looks. I pitied any girl that Gaston might choose to court over one of the woman's own daughters, though I had to admit _that_ was a cat-fight I would love to be in the same room for. Mrs Maddington obviously expected great things from them. And great things apparently meant throwing themselves at any male with money and power. Gaston didn't seem to mind it though. I knew how much he loved attention.

He caught me staring and gave me a wink before continuing awing the three girls with one of his famous hunting stories. Just to mess with him, I gave an exaggeratedly loud yawn, receiving a sharp kick under the table for my display.

Coughing on my own pain, I was attempting to right myself when the servants standing behind our chairs came forward to remove the dirty dishes from the table and serve the next meal. Still attempting to get Gaston back under the table, I straightened as though I were struck when a certain brown haired beauty walked through the door behind the other servants.

After Gaston had staked his claim on the girl last night, I had tried to push her out of my mind. The copious quantities of alcohol I had practically inhaled helped a lot in that respect, but seeing her again, this time stone sober, her beauty struck me even harder than it had the night before.

What did Gaston say her name was again? Oh yes, that was it, Belle.

 _Well, it was no wonder that her name meant beauty._

She walked into the room behind the other servers holding a platter of fish and potatoes. But instead of serving in a line like the rest of the servants, she walked straight towards Gaston's chair and placed his meal before him. Now that I was paying attention, I saw that Gaston was also giving Belle a fair amount of notice, much to the obvious disdain of the three Maddington girls. His icy eyes seemed to burn the way he looked at her, but the girl did not look back, merely set the food before the prince and retreated a safe distance behind his chair, but not before I caught Gaston's hand skim the skin of her own.

 _Curious. Very curious._

Last night Gaston had claimed that the girl served only him, and yet she had been in maid's attire tending to all the guests at the party. Today, however, while all the other servers were adorning the traditional black and white, she was wearing a light blue and white day dress. It didn't exactly look like she was prepared for serving the table either, so why was she? And why did she serve the second course and not the first? Then I remembered the little whispering session Gaston had had with the waiter a few moments ago and wondered... did he _ask_ for her?

There was something odd about this. Gaston had said he was the reason she was in the castle, but since when did he oversee the hiring of staff? Yes, very very _odd_.

I didn't even taste the food this time. As the girl was standing behind Gaston's chair, she was almost directly facing me, and I couldn't keep my gaze from wandering to her. As the main course was finished and cleaned away I expected the girl to come forward and collect Gaston's plate, but she didn't. She simply stayed behind his chair, hands clasped before her and head bowed, while Gaston continued to entertain the three blond girls with stories of grand heroism.

Secretly I wondered what Gaston was doing. Last night he had claimed that she was his; did he mean in the biblical sense? And if so, was he trying to make her jealous by blatantly flirting with the three triplets' right in front of her? Why would he bother trying to make a servant jealous? She was stunning, yes, but she was still _only_ a servant. Since when did Gaston care about the feelings of servants?

Taking an absent bite of my dessert, not even bothering to look down and see what it was, I watched Gaston snap his fingers in the air and push his empty glass to the side. The girl - Belle - lifted her head up, her doe-eyes catching my own before she quickly looked back down again, taking a step forward to refill Gaston's glass. I couldn't be sure, but for some reason, she looked almost... tense. Like she was expecting him to grab her or attack her or something. But he did not even acknowledge her, and simply continued flirting with all three sisters as the girl filled his goblet, placed the jug of ale back on the table and took a step back again, resuming her position in silence.

Seen and not heard; invisible.

But I noticed. I noticed a lot.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"Goodbye, Your Majesties. Feel free to visit our estate any time you wish." Mrs Maddington insisted, while her daughters nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. I almost let out a bark of laughter: the woman was truly unrelenting. She clearly wished for one of her daughters to sit on a throne one day and was not going to let anything get in the way. It was odd, but during the near end of supper, I had caught the woman glaring at Belle as discreetly as possible across the table. I could not fathom what this high-born woman would have against a mere servant girl, but the woman glared as though the girl was committing a personal offence to her. And if the girl sensed the woman's staring, she did nothing to respond to it, simply stood there in silence with her head held low, the perfect example of what an obedient servant should be.

Once dessert had been cleared and Gaston had announced the meal over, most of the guests had politely excused themselves, leaving the castle to begin their long journeys back home. It made me feel a little smug that all of them had travelled so far just for me; but then, a party was a party. And no bureaucrat would ever pass up the opportunity to celebrate with a king. Even kings and queens from other countries around the world had paid homage to my ball before heading back the way they came.

With most of the guests gone, the serving staff had also been excused; but not her. No, as Gaston had moved the small party of the Maddington's and me into the less formal den, she had stayed with us, doing practically nothing but standing behind Gaston's chair and occasionally filling his cup when it was emptied. It was only when Mr Maddington finally announced that it was time for them to take their departure - much to the displeasure of his wife and daughters - that the girl had left Gaston's side. We were now standing on the entrance steps of the castle, watching the family take their leave. Each of the three girls curtsied and batted their eyelashes in our direction before hoisting themselves into their carriage and setting off for their home. The moment the carriage was out of sight, riding out of the large rod iron gates, I couldn't contain my amusement, letting the laughter burst free while Gaston merely smirked at me.

"So I guess I know what you mean when you say you haven't lacked for company while I was away. Just how much time have you spent _entertaining_ those three?" I chuckled.

Gaston merely shook his head at my behaviour, before giving me a one-shouldered shrug. "Actually, I haven't entertained any of them for over a year. That was probably why they were hovering all over me today. I guess they feel neglected." He snickered.

I looked at him strangely, my humour evaporating almost at once. It wasn't like Gaston to deny attention when it was so blatantly offered. Yes, I had been gone for three years, but his behaviour these last two days had made it pretty clear that he hadn't changed much. My obvious confusion to his statement must have shown on my face because he simply shrugged again. Straightening his red tailcoat proudly, he boasted, "There are far better fish in the sea dear brother. Why settle for flounder when you can sate yourself on a mermaid."

I barely contained my look of astonishment at his words. What in the world did that even _mean_?

"I never took you for a poet Gaston. Where an earth did you read something like that?" I laughed at him.

His face scrunched in a look of distaste, "Reading is a waste of time, you know me Adam; I'd rather be out in the open air then cooped up in that dusty library all day. Though, admittedly, sometimes spending all day indoors does have its advantages, especially when you're spending it in bed." He sang, his husky tone illustrating to something specific. Nope, he had not changed at all.

"Ah huh." I cocked my head to the side, observing him. "And who exactly is this _mermaid_ that has captured the shark's interest?" I questioned loftily, jokingly playing on his odd words. I had a feeling I knew exactly who he was talking about, but I wanted him to confirm it himself.

His smirk turned dark, his icy blue eyes narrowing as though he were deciding how much to divulge. Finally, he mocked, "really brother, I know you have many reasons to envy me, but you need not hide behind pretence. You know exactly who I'm talking about. The same beauty you haven't been able to stop staring at all evening."

I grunted sardonically at the word 'envy' but took some stock in what else he had said. Was that why Gaston had had the brown eyed girl stuck to him all evening? Was he dangling her in front of me on purpose? It wasn't like Gaston to be so sneaky. At least not with me. We had played our fair share of pranks on one another over the years, but we had never kept secrets or lied to each other, nor had we played dirty in any of the sports or games of skill we had competed with each other against. We both knew how important it was to be able to trust each other. Soon we would be king's, ruling side by side in kingdoms mere miles apart. Trust was a necessity for the future, but really, the future had never been the main focus for either of us.

We had such similar personalities, preferring to do whatever gave us pleasure than to focus on matters of court and the responsibilities of our titles. My travels had enlightened me a little, it was true, but with my looming coronation, I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with this lifestyle for long, so I was sure as hell going to milk it for everything I could while I had the time. Gaston was exactly the same as me in that respect, and many others, that was what made it easy to be friends. Deception and backstabbing were not something we did. To others perhaps, but not to each other. Why would the sudden appearance of this girl make any difference?

I was just about to question my good friend on the matter when the castle's large entrance doors opened loudly behind us and Cogsworth came bumbling out, his large face flushed red, his normally neatly groomed brown toupee askew and his chest heaving as he hurriedly wobbled towards us.

"Young master," He addressed Gaston shallowly, clearly out of breath, most likely from running around the castle attempting to locate us. "I am sorry to disturb Your Majesties, but the king has requested your presence in his office. He wishes to speak with you on the preparations for your name day celebration."

Gaston huffed annoyed, turning his attention from the gasping little man over to me. "When will father learn that the only thing I'll care about at a party is beer and women?" He asked sarcastically. I chuckled, knowing just how true that was. Ever since the age of fourteen, as long as there was beer and attractive females, Gaston would be there.

"Very well, lead the way Cogsworth." Gaston huffed loudly. When he was walking up the steps with the panting man, I couldn't help but call out, "Don't think you're going to get away with kicking me earlier Gaston! I'm going to get you back for that!"

He looked over his shoulder and flashed his perfectly straight white teeth at me in a sickening grin that was so accustomed to his face.

"Oh bring it on dear brother. Bring it on!"

* * *

 _Putain: French for Bitch_


	3. The Library

**Chapter Three – The Library**

 **.**

The very next day I found myself in the library, attempting to entertain myself while the rain pelted down outside. I hadn't seen Gaston since he had left with Cogsworth the previous evening, and I wondered if the planning of his name day celebration had taken him and his father into early hours, as neither had been at the breakfast table that morning either.

The meal was good, and I had to admit to myself how much I had missed Mrs Potts' cooking while I had been away. Foreign cuisine was exotic and exciting, and the cooks in my own castle had been adequate, but there was just something about that woman's food. It was as though you could taste how much care had gone into each meal, and it wasn't surprising seeing as she was a very caring person. Another thing that had not changed. I wondered if everything was still the same as it had been before I left. I detected subtle changes in Gaston, but at his core, he was still exactly the same; arrogant, narcissistic and boastful. His attitude with his squire the day before made me snicker into the book I was attempting to read. I was glad so little had changed but was not exactly looking forward to throwing myself into the same routine that had been my life three years ago. I was already missing the excitement of being abroad and hoped that staying in this castle would entertain me until I had to go back home.

So I was not entirely surprised to find myself completely and utterly _bored_.

With my friend missing, and the autumn weather beating down outside, I was left to find something else to amuse myself with and was so completely desperate for _any_ kind of amusement, I had actually come in _here_ ; the library.

I hadn't spent much time in here as a boy. When Gaston and I used to take lessons together, our tutor would drag us in here, hoping the surroundings would motivate us into focusing on our studies. It hadn't. It really really hadn't. No, as boys Gaston and I had had little patience for studying, preferring instead the activity training more suitable for young men; such as horse riding, shooting and sword fighting. We had learned our good-hearted competitiveness from our fathers and had worked hard to impress them. Neither of them had been very affectionate men, but we had each earned praise for our many athletic abilities.

But times had changed. I now had a stack of papers from my councilmen I knew I should have been addressing, but could not even begin to work up the nerve for that yet. Unlike Gaston, I did not have my father around to deal with such matters anymore, and with my coronation less than a year away, I was expected to participate in at least some of the decision making. It was why I had been called back after all. But I simply could not bring myself to. The daunting stacks of letters were currently sitting on a desk in my very comfortable guest suite; untouched. With nothing else to do, I knew I should have at least been attempting to tackle them, but instead, I was hiding from them, in a library no less, trying to absorb myself in some classic literary novel... and failing.

I yawned shamelessly, and then finally stood to place the useless book back in the stacks I had retrieved it, resolving myself to leave and find something, _anything_ , to do; when the library doors opened. I looked over at them from my place high up on the second level and froze. There was the girl again.

Before I could rationalise my own actions, I'd quickly retreated behind the stacks, keeping the door and the girl firmly in view while I stood concealed. I had never hidden from anyone in my life, but I told myself that I simply wanted to observe the girl without interruption this time.

She was wearing a humble green day dress that reached to her ankles and darkened in shade around her bust. Her hair was pulled lazily back from her face at the nape of her neck, and she wore simple black shoes. Amazing, how she made such wholesome attire look so enticing. She moved leisurely about the library, practically prancing to a bookshelf to the far left as though she knew the large room inside and out. I kept myself concealed, no idea why I was spying on the girl like I did not have a right to be there myself. _What was she even doing here? Didn't she have chores to do or something?_ I couldn't exactly list the number of different servants there was for different things - having never paid much attention to matters of the help - but surely, at almost midday, this girl should be doing... something? But no, she simply moved towards the imposing bookshelf, skimmed her fingers leisurely over the perfect spines and finally, slotted in a book I hadn't even noticed she was holding, all the while with a peaceful smile on her face I could clearly see from all the way up here.

That's when I realised, that this girl, she was... odd. I had never in my life seen someone look at books the way she was doing now. I had been taught to appreciate literature, of course I had, but when the girl moved about the room, taking her time, scanning her eyes over each of the spines with such thoughtful consideration, she did so with such reverence she might have been witnessing a famous theatre performance or grand orchestra, instead of being stuck in a barely used library on a rainy day. I had retreated here out of boredom, but it would appear I was the only one to do so. The girl even appeared beautiful while she was thinking, her teeth playing over her plump pink lower lip in a way that almost made me groan aloud. She wasn't the only one who wanted to bite that lip.

I watched with a kind of morbid curiosity as the girl pulled one of the wooden ladders over to the other side of the library, and then began to climb the wooden polls to the higher stacks with such ease one would think she did this every day!

I wanted to yell out for her to be careful, but she seemed completely in her element as she climbed eight paces and reached out her arm for a book she must have known was there because her actions were far too specific to be random. She must have known this library quite well to know which book lie where; there were thousands in here!

Finally pulling a book away from its confines, she held the thing carefully to her chest before gingerly climbing back down again.

It was odd that I would be so enthralled with such a mediocre task, for I had witnessed far greater acts of bravery than someone climbing up a ladder, but I couldn't help my smile. Perhaps it was simply because the women I normally surrounded myself with had many others who simply did things like that for them. I couldn't think of one single woman I had ever grown close to who would risk themselves climbing up a ladder, even a small ladder. But it would appear this girl liked books enough to take the risk, for she held the one to her chest as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

Now that I thought about it though, this library did seem a lot more... used. Far cleaner, lighter and more organised than I remembered it. It was a grand room; of course, it was, for a castle of this size and a family of wealth, how could it not be? But it was still mostly unused from what I could remember from before I left. When Gaston and I used to get dragged in here, the curtains were always kept closed, even on bright sunny days, as our tutor did not wish for us to get 'distracted' by the outside world. We had been forced to study for hours by only the light of a few sparsely lit candelabras, one of the many reasons we had given the old bat such a hard time as kids. I had practically sobbed in relief the day I had learned that the wrinkled old woman was moving out of the castle to teach another family's children, once Gaston and I had reached the capable age to 'study' on our own. But aside from her, I knew no one else who _ever_ made regular use of this room, and was expecting to find it in the same dreary state it had always been when I had walked in this morning. But instead... no.

The curtains were wide open, sadly exposing the gloomy, stormy day, but still, shun a brighter light than any candle and made the room feel far more open. The gold and green marble floors had been waxed, the dark wood tables polished and the books and bookshelves dust free and organised perfectly. The old chairs that sat by the fireplace even looked like they had been put to good use lately. Hmm, perhaps _this_ was the girl's job then, to keep the library in order? But she didn't _look_ as though she were ready to clean or organise anything, she simply took the book she had in hand and moved towards the exact same well-worn faded green chairs I had noticed before, directly underneath where I stood; hiding. In order to keep the girl in view, I silently ducked down and hid behind the wooden bannister, unable to explain, even to myself what on earth I was even doing. Crouching behind the wooden frames of the bannister directly above the library's fireplace, I could see the girl plainly. I watched her sit herself down, pull her feet up underneath her and open the book, resting it on the chair's armrest as she began to read.

I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. What was I even doing, spying on some servant girl? I was a _prince_ , and yet I was hiding up here ogling her like some kind of unsophisticated voyeur. Perhaps it was simply the way she looked whilst she was reading that book. From the angle I could see her now, only a small part of her face was visible to me, but from the small portion I could see, she looked so focused on the printed words that it felt like I was intruding on an extremely intimate moment. And now I didn't know what to do with myself. If I revealed myself now, she would know I had been watching her. For surely she would have noticed me up here if I hadn't been hiding, I being the only other person occupying the large room. _But so what if she did?_ I asked myself scoldingly. I was a guest here, a _royal_ guest, and she was just some... girl. A beautiful girl, but a girl nonetheless. What did it matter what she thought of me?

 _It doesn't_ , I reasoned, nodding my head in confirmation. _Let her think what she wants, why should I care_? Resolute, and determined to prove myself right, I was just about to stand when the library double doors swung open once more.

"I might have guessed I'd find you in here!" Came a familiar booming voice from the doorway. Quickly shrinking back down again, I saw the girl jump from her seat as though she had been prodded with a branding iron. For the briefest of moments, I saw a flash of fear on the girl's face, before she turned to face the intruder at the door, and away from me.

"B-Bonjour Gaston." The girl greeted shakily, curtsying. I realised this was the first time I was hearing her speak, and found her voice to be quite pleasing. Only the slight stutter as she said my friend's name ruined the sweet pitch of her words.

Gaston literally swaggered towards the girl, a familiar smirk prominent on his face as he approached her. I didn't want to spy on my friend, but if I revealed myself now, he would know I was spying on _her_ , and there was no way I would ever be able to live that down, especially since I had, in so many words, surrendered to his claim on the girl. I had already decided I wasn't going to pursue her, as I had practically every other pretty woman who had ever crossed my path, and I didn't think he'd view my voyeuristic behaviour as 'backing off.'

Gaston moved to stand before the girl, quite literally towering over her as he was a head and a half her size. I watched him lift his hand to her face, and stroke his fingers over her left cheek. I couldn't tell for certain from my limited aerial view, but I was sure the girl tensed.

"And whatever might you be doing in here, my beauty?" He asked, though his sharp tone revealed he knew exactly what she was doing, and for some reason, took issue with it.

"I-I'm sorry Gaston. I woke up early this morning and you were still asleep. I just thought, since you didn't need me, I might spend some time in here. Just for a little while." She stammered. How strange, that she sounded as though she were pleading.

Gaston did not remove his hand from her face, instead, he leant towards her and murmured, so quietly I had to strain myself to hear him; "You could have stayed and laid beside me, you know?" Then his smirk melted away, and in its place a hardened glare as he straightened, moving his hand from her cheek to tightly grasp her chin. "But no. You still prefer the company of all these dusty old books than to me." He accused coldly, his tone almost daring her to say otherwise.

I couldn't see the girl's face, but it would appear she had opted for silence. After a moment, Gaston grunted, releasing his grip on her. She took a small step back, an action that was clearly caught by Gaston's narrowed blue eyes.

The frown on my face deepened; was this girl... _afraid_ of Gaston?

I had never seen them interact together, but she did seem wary of him. Yesterday, whilst serving him drinks, she had appeared the same. Her shoulders had tensed every time they touched like... like touching was the last thing she wanted to do.

I shook my head. I had to be imagining it. There was no way Gaston would ever force a girl into anything. And why would he even need to? We were royalty; women threw themselves at us daily. Why would this girl be any different?

But wary or not, the girl's actions seemed to amuse Gaston, for his smirk slowly returned as he dragged his eyes up and down her body, settling on her chest. I thought he might be staring at the obvious, but before I could roll my eyes at his boyish behaviour, Gaston asked, mockingly inquisitive; "And what do we have here?"

Then I remembered the girl was still holding the book she had been reading before. Straining my neck to keep the pair of them in sight without revealing myself, I saw the girl had her arms folded over her chest, cuddling the book to her as though it were a security blanket.

Gaston's grin only grew as he held out his hand before him, his expectations clear. I watched the girl hesitantly, reluctantly, unwind her arms and place the book into Gaston's waiting palm. He opened it immediately, flicking through the pages in obvious disinterest.

"How can you even read this? There aren't even any pictures." He tsked in displeasure.

Now _that_ made me bite my lip to keep in a laugh. Same old Gaston; never met a book worth reading.

"I've told you before, some books don't need pictures. You only have to use your imagination." She told him, a little confidence seeping through her guarded tone.

Gaston scoffed again, and I nearly mirrored his sentiment. _Imagination_ ; what was the point in _that_? We lived lives of grandeur and wealth. People spent their lives imagining being like _us_. Wishing they _were_ us. Did she truly not understand that? This girl really _was_ strange.

"Belle, my dear, when are you going to get your head out of these books and concentrate on more important things? Like me." He demanded.

The girl's face was still hidden, but I heard her let out a tiny little sigh. They had clearly had this conversation, or something close to it, many times before. But instead of reproaching him as an equal would, or prostrating like a servant _should_ , the girl seemed to straighten her back and raise her head more assertively than before. Well, perhaps assertive was the wrong word, from what little I could see of her, the girl looked like she was preparing herself.

"I apologise Gaston. Was there something that you wanted?" The girl – Belle, I mentally corrected – asked him politely. Amazing how she could sound resigned and sincere all at once. What an interesting couple these two made. Watching them together was like watching two people perform two different dances on the same stage. I knew next to nothing about this girl, and yet, I could already tell she wasn't the type of woman Gaston would normally go for. She seemed intelligent, and she clearly liked reading. She also didn't sound at all like she was eager to bow at Gaston's feet as many other girls had been, despite the fact that she had basically offered to do just that.

This mystery just kept getting more intriguing.

Gaston threw his shoulders back, posturing proudly.

"As a matter of fact, there is." He replied, and without further comment, slipped the small blue book into his inner jacket pocket.

"Gaston, may I have my book please?" She requested, though there was a certain level of desperation lacing her tone that confused me. Besides, it wasn't really _her_ book. She had taken it off the library shelf. It was more _his_ book than hers.

Gaston brought his hands together and touched his forefingers to his lips in sarcastic contemplation. "Hmm, I'm not so sure you deserve to have it back Belle. You didn't ask permission to come in here after all. Perhaps losing the book will be a good enough lesson in obedience for you." He reprimanded her, flashing his sparkling teeth in a full grin.

Belle held up her hands beseechingly to him, her tone laced with panic; "please Gaston, don't take it! I'm sorry! You were still asleep when I woke up and it was raining outside and the house-staff was busy and I just came in here for something to do. I should have asked you first, I know. Please, I won't do it again! Just don't take my book, it's my favourite! Please?"

Wow. I had never heard anyone beg so much for a book before.

The smirk never left Gaston's face, and I did think it rather unsavoury of my friend to dangle something so obviously meaningful to the girl above her head like this. We had played similar games as children, mostly picking on Lafou in the same way, keeping something he desired away from him, knowing he couldn't and wouldn't do a thing to stop us. But we weren't kids anymore, and with the way the girl was pleading, it did seem rather... cruel. I had found Lefou's cowering before my old friend amusing yesterday afternoon, but on this girl, I didn't know, cowering just didn't seem to suit her.

Gaston let out an exaggerated sigh, before looking down upon the girl with fake compassion, and exclaiming. "I _might_ be persuaded to give the book back, if..." He trailed off.

"If what?" She demanded resignedly.

"If you kiss me."

Hmm, that was a simple enough request I supposed. Judging by Gaston's earlier words, I would guess they had already been intimate before, so why should a kiss even matter. I still couldn't see the girl's face, but I watched in fascination as her whole body went tense like... like the thought of kissing him was... unpleasant.

Other girls would kill their husbands for the chance to be kissed by a prince.

 _Seriously, what was going on?_

They stood apart for several more moments, in silence, before the girl's shoulders sank. She took a hesitant step closer to him - so all I could see of her was her back – and with Gaston watching her like a hawk, did she raise herself up on her tiptoes to place her lips on his.

He looked like he was smiling as he began to kiss her back, his arm snaking around her back as he pulled her closer. His other hand snuck into her hair and pulled the green ribbon tying the back of her hair free, letting it fall to the ground as he crushed the brunette strains in his fist and deepened the kiss, practically ravaging her mouth with his own.

And now I felt like a complete pervert. I was watching my friend passionately kiss a girl, and for some reason, I just couldn't pry my eyes away. He looked as though he was crushing the poor girl's small body as he held her close to him, attacking her lips as he loudly groaned. And I couldn't be entirely certain, but as my eyes refused to look away, I couldn't help but notice that the girl did not look like a girl who wanted to be kissed. Her back was tense and her legs were dangling just above the ground, straight and rigid. Her body looked locked as Gaston continued displaying his passion, though it seemed clear to everyone but him that he was the only one enjoying it. But, how funny, that the girl _did_ appear to be kissing him back. Why kiss someone if you didn't enjoy doing it? And why wouldn't she enjoy it in the first place?

Unable to continue spying on such an intimate moment, I averted my eyes until the light smacking sounds finally ceased. Gaston released the girl, sighing loudly in contentment as she staggered back a few paces, almost knocking into the faded red chair she had been sat on before. Gaston gave a small chuckle at her dishevelled appearance, and crossed his arms over his chest arrogantly, looking completely fine as the girl panted and struggled to regain her breath.

"Now _that_ was a kiss." He complemented with a toothy grin; though, really, it sounded more like he was boasting then praising. I watched him lean forward and place his lips to her cheek. Then, just as suddenly, turn on his heel back towards the library door.

"Wait!" Belle cried after him, hurrying to catch up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I no longer had to strain my neck to see them both. They were now perfectly in view as Belle ran up to Gaston - her lovely long hair freely flying behind her back - and placed her hand on his arm. He turned to face her, his eyes soaking in her every movement like watching her was his greatest pleasure.

"May I have my book now please?" She asked breathlessly, humbly. Her lovely face flushed with an attractive red blush.

Gaston chuckled, his loud baritone bouncing around the wide open room. My forehead puckered at Gaston's behaviour. She had given him what he had asked for. We were nothing if our word meant nothing. Nothing without our honour.

"You may... later on tonight." He told her. She opened her mouth as though to protest, and Gaston swooped down and recaptured her perfect lips before she could make a sound. It was a short, hard kiss judging by the scrunched appearance of the girl's face. He released her just as quickly, and said something close to her ear that I could not hear before swaggering back out the room, leaving the girl without her book... alone. Well, almost alone.

Belle slumped, literally collapsed into herself as though she had been holding the same posture for hours. I had no idea what Gaston had whispered in her ear, but whatever it was, judging by her squinted eyes and lifeless posture, the girl looked as though she were about to cry.

I couldn't fathom why, he had only taken a book after all, and this room was filled with others, but as she brought her hand to rub at her eyes as though attempting to keep the tears at bay, I found the sight quite... displeasing. She stood there for several more moments, composing herself, before she approached the door and quietly exited the room, leaving me behind.

What a strange relationship my friend seemed to have with this servant girl. If she even _was_ a servant at all. I had seen her in three different settings now, and twice she hadn't even been wearing servant attire. And while she was pleading with Gaston, she had said 'house-staff' as though she did not belong to that category. So… what exactly _was_ she? Did she serve the castle or was she free to do as she pleased? Or did she serve the prince, and _because_ of that, she was free to do as she pleased.

Well, _one_ thing was for sure, and that was the fact that she did not seem to enjoy Gaston's affections the way most women did. So, again I asked myself... _who is this girl_?


	4. A Night At The Tavern

**Chapter Four – A Night At The Tavern**

 **.**

I couldn't contain the look of astonishment that appeared on my face as I stared at the wall of prized antlers and stuffed animal heads. I was in such awe of the sheer quantity I was looking at, I almost didn't feel the signature slap on my back I was becoming quite accustomed to.

"It's impressive, isn't it? I try to use antlers in _all_ of my decorating!" Gaston's loud voice rang clearly even with the noise of the patrons in the town's tavern. Gaston had dragged me out here to celebrate my being home a whole week. It hardly felt like seven days at all, as each day had been filled with some kind of activity or athletic competition. For the past few days I had been fencing, horseback riding, swimming, hunting, running, jousting and that was only to name a few. All in the name of keeping up with Gaston and his 'daily fitness routine'. Even though I would never let him know it, I was exhausted. It had been a busy busy week, and I had almost wept in relief when Gaston had suggested that instead of taking another two-hour swim, or a five-hour hike, or a twelve-hour hunting trip, we simply go into town and see what was good there. I had quickly agreed, and so we set off to the kingdom's closest village, the fool Lafou straggling behind us.

The place was unchanged. The same peasants going about their provincial little lives. Gaston had, of course, made a beeline for the tavern, and that was where we now stood. After being loudly greeted by what looked like every single man in the village as we walked through the door I was now standing before Gaston's 'shrine'. And that was exactly what it was. In the centre of all the stuffed heads and mounted prizes, there was even a portrait of him. I did not think it was possible, but it looked as though my friend had become even vainer since the day I had left. That painting of him, looking regal and proud, holding his blunderbuss at his side as though it were a sceptre of power, had most definitely _not_ hung in this tavern the last time _I_ was here.

But aside from that small corner that seemed to be Gaston's own private piece of the pub, the place looked almost exactly the same as before. Everything was wood. From the barrels of ale and the tables to the floorboards and the barstools. It had 'rustic charm' I supposed, as not many peasants could afford to live in palaces of ivory and marble. It _did_ look as though it had been done up a little, though, and I couldn't help but wonder... if Gaston's shrine was more of a requirement for any investing he may have put into this place. It seemed like a very 'Gaston' thing to do. His family had no shortage of wealth, and with everything he had ever wanted at his fingertips, putting money into his favourite home away from home seemed like a likely scenario.

"Barmaid, A cup of ale for every man in the house!" Gaston bellowed. The rousing yells of thanks and praise made me smirk at Gaston's ways. Like his father, he sure knew how to inspire devotion and worship amongst lesser men. It would also appear his need for attention had grown exponentially, but then, with me gone, there had really been no one here to compete with him for it.

I watched him stomp his way over to a large, oddly shaped chair by the fireplace, directly below his portrait and throw himself down so hard I feared for the taverns safety. The floor was practically vibrating.

"Pull up a chair Adam, unless of course, you're still tipsy from your welcoming gala, in which case I'm sure we can find something tamer for you to do. I bet the barman's wife has some knitting needles you could borrow." He joked, grinning unrepentantly as every man in the tavern laughed at my expense.

"Oh, that's alright Gaston, I'll just borrow yours when we get back. If that's alright with you. Of course, I can't imagine why it wouldn't be because I'm sure your arms still hurt from that jousting match you lost to me yesterday," I retorted smoothly. Everything in the tavern went silent for a moment, as I was sure not many men had the stones to back talk Gaston in such a way. Lafou was even staring up at me as though I had defiled the name of the gods or something. Well, they would simply have to get used to it. Gaston wasn't the only player in this game anymore, and I may have been gone a long time, but I wasn't about to let my own power be forgotten.

Gaston simply looked at me for a moment more before his belting laughter tore through the tense silence; everyone followed suit as if Gaston's humour gave them permission to be amused themselves.

Gaston's chuckles died down slowly, he then ordered Lafou to fetch me a chair. The little man scurried off like a dog to fetch a stick. I rolled my eyes to Gaston who merely shrugged. I suppose, when you have someone who will literally do anything for you of their own volition, it was acceptable to take advantage of it. Lafou was an inept little maggot who clung to the fate of more powerful men for protection, and I could see why he'd make an easy target if he wasn't hiding in a shadow as big as Gaston's. The tiny man returned carrying a large padded armchair he had apparently taken from the tavern owners home upstairs, knowing that a common wooden barstool would not be good enough for me. I could see he was struggling to lift the damn thing, and so took it from him without a word, pulling it over towards Gaston.

My feet hit something unexpected, and I staggered. Looking down at the offending thing, I saw I had tripped over... oh good grief. I had tripped over a bearskin rug, complete with the bear's head lying useless on the floor. Gaston saw the look on my face and only laughed harder.

A few hours later, we were each polishing off our dozenth mug and laughing our asses off when I noticed someone across the bar I hadn't noticed before. It was a young barmaid, with flaming red hair pulled back in a white cap that matched the apron tied around her waist. Huh, that was funny; I hadn't seen her in here earlier. But then, Gaston and I had been drinking and talking for a good long while. I had entertained the men with stories of my travels, what people I had met and things I had seen. The men were all predominantly fond of the stories that involved women, particularly my proud tale of my fling with a young noblewoman, who had been engaged at the time. The woman had literally begged me to take her the night before her own wedding, as her intended was over twice her age, and she had, in her own words, wanted 'one last night of passion before I'm forced to spend the rest of my life with that wrinkled old dick.' She had meant it both figuratively and literally.

Gaston, not to be outshone, had offered to foot the bill for every man's drinks that night, and I remembered thinking how lucky he was for his extreme wealth.

He'd milk his father's fortune dry if half the tavern's profits did not go right back into the royal treasury.

He had then proceeded to beguile the men with his tale of how he had come to take down the massive bear he was currently resting his feet on. As the afternoon melted into late evening, I became even more drunk, and a little lightheaded, and my attention was beginning to fade.

It came as no surprise to me when it refocused on a girl.

Gaston seemed to notice my staring and elbowed me in the side.

"You should go introduce yourself. I'm sure she would just _love_ to meet you." He practically yelled, though thanks to the increasing noise from the men around us, the red-haired woman did not hear him. I looked back at the girl. She was beautiful, not as beautiful as some of the other women I had seen lately, but still gorgeous nonetheless. She was serving two mugs to men across the pub and I could not help but admire her well-rounded rear sticking out from behind a fitted yellow dress. It had been a while since I had...

I looked back at Gaston sharply, fighting the throbbing such a fast action caused.

"Another one of your conquests?" I asked/yelled to him. He merely smirked at me, drained the last dregs of ale from his mug, and waved the barmaid over, stating, "Not that one, brother, you'd be the first to taste her if you chose I expect, but you better hurry up and decide, or I might just offer to take her first." He laughed, wagging his thick black eyebrows at me. I scoffed; seriously considering taking him up on his challenge, yet somehow doubting his friendly threat had any real basis. Wasn't it he who all but confessed he hadn't indulged in any other woman since his acquisition of the brunette beauty? What had he called her: a mermaid among fish or something?

Ah, Belle...I hadn't given much thought to the stunning brown haired goddess since that day in the library, as it had been a busy week, and I had not seen her around at all since then, and out of sight out of mind right?

At least, that was what I had been trying to convince myself.

I didn't have time to put any serious consideration into that train of thought as the lovely barmaid suddenly appeared, placing the tray of our ale on a small table Gaston had procured for us. From behind her, Gaston inclined his strong chin towards the girl, clearly offering up the challenge. I cleared my throat.

"What's your name?" I yelled over the din. The barmaid straightened and jumped back with the tray in hand, clearly surprised I had talked to her after apparently ignoring her all night.

"Angela, sir." She replied, just loud enough for me to hear above the rowdy drunken men. She had a soft voice, and she was pretty, and it had been a while since I had wet my appetite. I wondered if she would go off with me if I asked. I wondered how far away her home was. I wondered...

"You're a very pretty girl Angela!" I yelled at her, staggering as I tried to stand. I must have drunk more than I had thought, but the drinks had just kept coming and coming all night long. One after another, and Gaston and I had been competing against each other to see who could drink the most before throwing in the towel. I had a feeling I was going to lose that bet, as well as some of the alcohol I had been consuming.

"Thank you, sir," The girl mumbled, holding her empty tray to her chest as though it were a shield against me. _It will take a lot more than that to protect you_ , I snickered inwardly.

 _Wow, it is loud in here._

"Would you like to get out of here for a while?" I asked, trying to straighten the slur in my words.

Behind me, I could hear a light chuckling, and I flipped my friend the finger discreetly behind my back, only causing his chuckles to rise.

The girl's bright green eyes widened, and she took another step back, stammering, "I- I- I don't think the tavern owner would let me leave in the middle of my shift, sir."

I waved my hand dismissively.

"He'll let you if I tell him to let you. I'm a prince, what right would he have to go against my wishes?" I boasted.

Angelica, or whatever her name was, looked frantically between myself and Gaston, who was still sitting behind me, probably amusing himself with my inability to hold my own liquor. The noise in here was really starting to get to me.

"I- I..." She stammered, almost as though she were trying to come up with another excuse. But I wasn't having that. My body was throbbing with a familiar ache I had not sated in a while, and barmaids were always easy pickings, though, judging by the age of her, I would guess Gaston's comment about being the 'first to taste her' would be correct. She looked like a virgin, and I hadn't had one in a while. I suddenly became much more determined to convince her.

"C'mon!" I yelled gamely, throwing my arm over her shoulder. I thought for a moment she looked uncomfortable, but I must have been imagining it. I was a handsome man, and despite my drunken state, my light auburn hair and baby blue eyes had always attracted attractive mates. I was determined this girl be no different. "It'll be fun, I promise. I can guaranty you a good time." I said, waggling my eyebrows at her. I could not for the life of me understand the expression on the girl's face then. It was a look I had never seen before when I had approached a woman in this manner. And, granted, I most likely didn't look my best right now, as I had been chugging back beer since three in the afternoon, but what did it really matter? My station was far higher than hers, and she had no right to refuse me, not that I could fathom a single reason why she would.

The girl still looked as though she might protest, when my good friend finally decided to help me out.

"Yes, you two go have some fun. I'll talk to the tavern owner for you; he knows better never to deny a prince anything." He bellowed, but I detected just a hint of darkness in his otherwise boisterous tone. His words were like a warning.

I was too drunk to notice.

Finally, after several quick looks between Gaston and I, the girl finally consented with a small nod of her head. I almost sighed in relief, convinced she was about to deny me. I didn't think I would have been able to live it down if she did, especially not with my friend watching. I couldn't ever remember needing to do more than crook my finger at a woman before they came running to me, practically begging for it. I guessed the barmaid was just playing hard to get.

The girl set her empty tray down on the table and finally allowed me to escort her to the door. I looked over my shoulder to mouth a thank you for Gaston's assistance and saw him smirking darkly right back, while beside him, Lafou looked at me enviously. I shot him the best arrogant leer I had; he only wished he could get a girl this beautiful.

The cool autumn air hit me pretty hard after the whole evening of drinking in that tavern. I looked down at my appearance, noticing with relief that I had gotten nothing on my white poets' shirt or grey breeches. I felt the girl I still had my arm around tremble slightly; I guessed I wasn't the only one feeling the cold weather.

I was going to offer her my purple cape, then realised I had left it in the tavern. Not wanting to go back for it, I simply turned to the girl and asked, "So, where do you live?"

The barmaid looked back at me strangely, I really could not decipher her expression, but then, I was having a difficult time focusing on anything other than the need that had overtaken me. I had to get this girl on a bed and fast.

She said nothing, merely pointed towards a small house practically right opposite the tavern.

 _Well, isn't that convenient_ , I thought foggily.

Secretly I was relieved she lived so close, as I was not sure I could walk very far with how intoxicated I knew myself to be.

I practically leant on her as she led me to the small townhouse with a green door. As she shakily fished her keys from inside the apron she still wore, I inquired, "Does anyone live in there with you?"

Honestly, I really couldn't care less either way, but I did not wish to be interrupted once we began.

The girl shook her head and replied, "No, my father is a travelling salesman. He is out of town at the moment. It's just me." Odd, that she sounded regretful when she said this.

I watched her through my drunken haze as she struggled to open the door. I couldn't fathom what was taking so long until I noticed her hands were shaking. Leaning down to her ear, I whispered, "Would you like me to try?"

"No, I- I- I can do it." She stammered.

I smiled when the door latch finally clicked.

The small house was shrouded in darkness. I squinted, paying little attention to the furnishing and watched the girl untie her apron and hang it and her house keys on a hook before closing the door behind us. Then, without even looking in my direction, she headed towards a single wooden staircase.

I let her disengage herself from me, not wanting to appear as though I needed assistance, and clumsily followed her up the steps.

Her room was a pretty yellow colour, and my eyes zeroed in on the bed tucked into the corner of the room. It was a smaller bed then I'd be used to, but a bed was a bed, and a girl was a girl. I'd be able to perform just fine no matter what the surface, I reasoned, remembering a time where I had been so impatient I had literally taken a girl on her pristinely tiled bathroom floor. Remembering the girl's moans and pleads for more made my breeches tighten around me. I looked over at the red-haired girl, who was removing her cap from her hair with trembling fingers. I smirked and swaggered over to her, trying not to stagger.

"Let me do that," I whispered sultrily in her ear, and felt her freeze under my touch as I pulled the cap free and ran my fingers through the flaming red hair. She turned to face me slowly, her green eyes wide and sparkling with a layer of moister my addled brain didn't seem to want to acknowledge.

"So... what happens now?" The young girl asked me shakily. My forehead puckered, taking an eternity to understand the words she spoke.

"You've never done this before?" I questioned her curiously, though I had already suspected. Her shake of the head was all the confirmation I needed, and I had to remember to thank Gaston later for his keen observation and encouragement. This was going to be a fun night.

"No, Your Majesty. I've never done anything like this before." She whispered softly.

I smiled lazily at her.

"You can call me Adam for tonight," I told her, wanting her to know my name, wanting to hear her moan it appropriately as I brought her the most pleasure she would ever feel in her life.

Slowly, I leant forward to capture her quivering pink lips with mine. I wanted to taste her, explore her mouth with my tongue, but I knew I couldn't have smelled that great, and I wanted to make this an enjoyable experience for her, it being her first time and all.

Her first... I was almost salivating at the thought.

"Don't worry," I murmured into her trembling lips, "I'll teach you."

* * *

 **So... thoughts?**


	5. Chip, Spot and Potts

**Chapter Five** **-** **Chip, Spot and Potts**

 **.**

The world was spinning.

I was sure I looked quite a sight, hunched over the lavatory whilst I exhaled all the poison I had flooded my system with the night before. I didn't regret it, but I was most definitely paying the price for all the fun now.

Though, I had to admit, I had also reeked the benefits.

My time with the red headed barmaid had been quite pleasurable. Her body had been fresh and untouched, and I had enjoyed marking it with my own. Making sure, even in my intoxicated state, that she to experienced pleasure. And she had; I found myself replaying the sound of her moans in my mind even as I oh so regally threw my head over the edge of the lavatory and hacked up the rest of the beer I had drunk the night before.

 _Pain_.

I stayed in the lavishly decorated wash-room until the pounding in my head reduced to a low throbbing. I desperately needed something to ease the ache.

For the first time in perhaps my six years of experience, I was second-guessing the logic of my rule to always leave the girl's bed before dawn. At least if I had stayed, I could have gotten the girl to get me a glass of water first thing in the morning, instead of battling this headache on my own. True, I could have simply rung the bell and called one of the maids to bring me something to soak up the alcohol, but I was reluctant to have anyone see me in a state less than perfect. Not to mention, I didn't exactly wish for word to get around the castle that a certain young prince couldn't hold his liquor.

There was one person, however, whom I knew I could trust to be discrete about this, as well as not give me a hard time if I went to her about needing a cure for a hangover. Resolving my need to yank myself off the floor, I dressed in a new shirt and a fresh pair of breeches, and discretely popped my head out of my chamber door to scour the empty hallway before hobbling towards the kitchen. It was a miracle in itself that I managed to tackle three flights of stairs and seven empty hallways without falling flat on my face or being seen.

Descending the last step towards the hall that housed the kitchens, I walked right through the double doors and was assaulted by the loud hammering of many cooks and scullery maids running about the place, preparing for dinner. I had already missed lunch and breakfast, having been past out dead to the world until two in the afternoon. I scoured the large kitchen, knowing exactly who I was looking for, but having a hard time finding her in the loud mess of people.

The kitchens were vast, hidden on one of the lower levels of the castle just above the boiler room where most castle guests would not venture down, as the kitchens were quite an unsavoury place for high-borns or members of royalty to occupy their time in.

I had never thought so though.

Way up until my early adult years it had been a routine for me to sneak down here at night and steal food from the pantries. I had been caught a few times, but really, none of the castle staff had ever dared scold me for it. Mrs Potts would perhaps be the only member of staff I would have ever been even remotely afraid of disappointing, but she had always found my nightly missions rather amusing. Before her son was even born, when she used to catch me down here, either late at night or early morning, she would sit me on the kitchen counter and kindly ask me what I would like. Sending me off with an arm full of treats and a giggling warning not to let myself be caught by the king or my father. I had liked the woman immensely, and had to admit to myself that a lot of the time I had snuck down here was more for her company than for any sweets she would sneak me. She was such a kind woman, and I admittedly was not use to that kind of attention being bestowed to me. I had had nannies who, I believed to a certain degree, _cared_ for me. But mother had never kept the same one around for too long, not wishing for me to 'get attached to the help.' I had overheard her admit so to my father once when I had been eavesdropping on an argument they were having. They had argued so scarcely that I had been drawn to the raised voices out of sheer childlike curiosity. My father had lost his temper after she had fired the fifth nanny I had caring for me in under a year, and had told her if my not caring for 'the help' meant so much to her, that she should 'care' for me all day herself. Her response to _that_ comment had been blasé and unfeeling, as she told him, 'don't be ridiculous Roger, I have social commitments and afternoon teas to attend. The boy simply needs to be watched, not mollycoddled, something all those nannies just cannot seem to understand. I actually caught the last one _hugging_ him! Can you imagine? You're the one who stated you wanted a strong heir, how is the boy to grow strong when he is dependent on _common_ people?'

I had taken quite a lot away from that single argument. One, that my mother would rather be out living it up with all the high rising social climbers then spend any time with me, and two, that relying on the 'common people' was seen as a very bad thing, and I would be disappointing my parents in doing such. After that, I had stopped growing attached to my nannies, and had even driven a few of them to tears as I took my bitterness for my parents out on them. I had been rather a spiteful child, but by that time, I felt as though I was entitled to be so, and once I had been introduced to Gaston, had come to expect that all children born to privilege looked down their nose at their subjects.

But not her; no, for some reason, it was extremely difficult to give Mrs Potts a hard time. She was just so... kind. Just a genuinely kind woman, and had not stopped doting on me, even after she had given birth to her own son.

I had only stopped seeking the woman's company after the death of her husband. He had died after being trampled by a herd of horses he had tried to save when the barn had caught fire a night one summer. I hadn't been here then, but the news had reached my own palace when Silas had written to my father asking to buy two of our family horses, as both his and Gaston's had perished in the flames. The letter spoke nothing of the man who had lost his life trying to free the creatures from the flames, and I had only found out a few months later when I had gone back to stay and had eagerly snuck down to the kitchens, only to find it empty every night I was there. It wasn't until the final night of my week-long visit I had worked up the guts to ask one of the maids where Mrs Potts was. The maid had looked at me strangely before informing me that she had taken a years sabbatical from work, and had taken her baby to stay with her parents while she grieved the loss of her husband. I had only been around fourteen or fifteen, but after hearing the news I had never tried to seek the woman's company again. It had been a hard blow for me, as she was the closest thing to a real mother figure I had ever really known, and, during that time, I was also under great emotional distress. I was disappointed, and angry with everything, and had eventually convinced myself that the woman wasn't worth the trouble. She was still a servant after all, and I knocked all the fond feelings I had for the woman down to childishness. Even when she returned to the castle, I had avoided the kitchens, and all acknowledgement of her growing son until the day I set off on my journey. I would imagine he'd be around the age of eight by now, but I honestly could not care less about the boy. It was his mother I was seeking assistance from now.

The kitchen was widely spread, with counters extending every five paces. Pots, pans, saucepans and cutlery stacked on shelves and hung from hooks on the walls. Everything in the room was either wood or stone, and had an impressively large meat cooker built into the whole back left wall, as well as a bread stove and smaller ovens and stoves scattered around the place, used for preparing side dishes or whatever else they did down here.

Stumbling through the kitchen staff, wincing at the loud clashing of dishes and the soe chef screaming orders at the other cooks, I searched out the familiar figure of the older woman.

My lips twitched involuntarily when I caught sight of her in the corner with her back to me, kneading some bread dough whilst casually speaking with a young maid beside her. In any other setting, I would have been paying more attention to the young girl, who looked about my age and had a nice body from what I could see with her back to me, but I had come for a cure, not another conquest.

"Mrs Potts." I greeted calmly, suppressing my grin as the woman jumped and spun, her eyes going wide and her hand flying to her heart as she took me in. The loss of her husband had obviously prematurely aged the woman, for her hair was already beginning to grey, and wrinkles were already taking their place in the corners of her eyes and mouth, but she still looked the same to me.

Shock, confusion and then recognition flashed across the woman's face before her signature smile finally broke through. It made me want to smile in return, but I fought it back, for it would probably be a pained one, as the noise in the confined space was really starting to murder my eardrums.

"Adam? I mean, young master, I mean... what? How? How may I help you, Your Highness?" She uncharacteristically stammered, her hands going to her purple hat and pulling at it nervously.

My face twitched slightly at her addressing me as 'Your Highness.' It was custom for anyone of lesser rank to address royalty as such, or else 'young master' as a respectful title until the royal heir reached the legal age, but during my nightly visits many years ago, she had called me by my given name. I had liked the way she had said my name, not withdrawn and detached as my parents had, or slyly mocking the way Gaston always seemed to; she called me by my given name as though it were a secret between just the two of us. We had giggled about it like children when I was just a child, as she had always looked upon me so affectionately, and spoke to me so sweetly. I had missed it, when she had left, but over the years, I had hardened myself to all manners of affection, preferring to keep most people at a distance. Whether she knew it or not, this woman had left me, but I would never, ever acknowledge the pain that had caused me. That would be admitting weakness.

"Mrs Potts, I wish to speak with you privately," I said, or rather ordered, since I did not even bother to hear her reply before walking towards a small room I knew sat off to the kitchens, a room where most of the kitchen staff ate their lunch and took their breaks. It was empty, much to my relief, and I moved to sit on one of the uncomfortable rickety wooden chairs around the small table, feeling too tired and grouchy to be picky.

Mrs Potts came in after me, her plump form encased in a purple dress with a white body length apron as required of the house staff. Her greying hair was all pulled back in a tight bun, but that did not prevent the woman from fussing over the loose strands as she stepped into the small space. I didn't have the patience for pleasantries, getting straight to the point.

"I need something for a hangover," I told the woman, my voice emotionless, with just the hint of a whine.

I watched surprise flit across her face before her oval eyes slanted in disapproval. I tried my hardest not to squirm under that look. Her feelings should not have mattered to me, but her stare was penetrating. After looking me right in the eye for several more moments, she nodded her head, almost to herself, and with a curt, "Yes, Your Majesty," she turned and left the room.

I put my head in my hands and moaned. I knew I had been stern with her, but that was the way royalty was supposed to treat servants, even though she wasn't _my_ servant, in _my_ house, the rules still applied.

 _Why should I show respect to her? She's just a servant doing her job, and to use mothers wise words, 'you have to keep servants in their place, or they'll walk all over you.' Besides, she left me, I don't owe her anything!_

Sitting up a little straighter, I resolved myself to stop behaving like a whiny child. Even though I so very rarely took anything my mother had ever said to heart - after all she had been dead for four years - I believed, in this instance, she had spoken wisely.

I shook myself free of those disturbing thoughts. I did not like thinking about my parents' deaths. I had told the whole world that I was fine after they were buried. Had announced to everyone in my kingdom that my trip around the world was just something I wanted to do for pleasure and enjoyment and had nothing to do with escaping the castle that held all my memories of them. I had not given either of them a single thought since their funeral, I was not going to start honouring them now.

I wasn't given the time to think on it more as Mrs Potts returned with a tall mug and a plate with a simple roll of bread. She set both down before me and stepped away. When I looked into the mug, I just about retched. Looking up at the woman pleadingly, she merely met my gaze sternly and said, "It may not be pleasant, but raw eggs are a fast and extremely effective way of relieving the pains of overindulging. And without knowing just how much you drank, I can not give you anything more remedied. If you wish to feel better, you will drink everything in that mug and then eat the bread when you feel you can stomach it." She explained simply, raising her eyebrow at me, almost as though she were challenging me.

Without giving myself time to chicken out, I reached forward and clasped the mug tightly in my left hand. Closing my eyes, I brought the thing to my lips and quickly chugged the slimy, lumpy content down, choking slightly as the taste burned my tongue in gulp after gulp. When the mug was finally, blessedly empty, I slammed it down on the table and pushed it as far away from me as possible, still heaving at the vile taste.

Mrs Potts' stern look turned to a smile as she pushed the plate of bread forward. "You should stay in here until the pain has passed, but make sure you remember to eat the bread before you leave. I know you may feel as though you can't eat a thing, but something in your stomach always helps to soak up any excess alcohol. I need to finish preparations for dinner. Call me back in if you need anything." She told me kindly, a hint of tenderness touching her tone.

Lowering my head down on the wooden surface of the table, I reluctantly mumbled a thank you to her before closing my eyes. I almost jumped up from the chair when I felt her hand rest on my hair for a moment, before I heard her walk away and close the door behind her.

I truly hated to admit it to myself, but I _had_ missed that woman. More than just her cooking or her motherly attention, I had just... missed her.

How strange.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I was nibbling on the small piece of bread I had left when I heard a loud shout, a bark, and was consequently rendered flat on my ass.

I had left the kitchen mere moments before, having snuck out as discreetly as possible so Mrs Potts wouldn't have to look at me. I was afraid that I had disappointed her, and I was even more afraid of the fact that I cared if I had disappointed her.

After turning seven, I had not attempted to care for any servant, and chose to simply ignore them as my parents had insisted. Well, my _mother_ had insisted, my father, on the other hand, never had much to say on the subject either way. I had never heard or witnessed him outright verbally or physically abusing any member of our castle's staff, but he would speak to them coldly and detached as though they were mere working machines rather than people. I had been told I would take his place one day, and own a kingdom and all its people. As a young child, when you are told you are destined to be something, you look to the only other person that shares that fate. I had observed my father and Silas, and had come to the conclusion that remaining detached and lofty was the best route to take. As a boy, when I wasn't tormenting the staff with pranks or large messes, I was just ignoring them. Seen and not heard, right? That was the point. But I had missed Mrs Potts, and the compassion she had just shown me was possibly, probably, more than I had experienced in years. I had been hungover dozens of times, but no one had ever cared enough to make me do something I found unpleasant for my own good. And it was; the throbbing ache had dulled considerably, and I might have even managed a small nap with my head resting on that table before I had launched up and got myself out of there, remembering at the last minute the uneaten roll of bread she had insisted on me eating. Everyone was always so eager to please me, giving me everything I wanted, spoiling me. She hadn't given me what I wanted, she had given me what I _needed_ , and had stayed long enough to ensure I did as she had said. When she had laid her hand on my head, the touch was tender, like a mother comforting her offspring, but it shouldn't have happened. She didn't have the right to lay her hands on me, but the motherly touch had felt... nice.

And I was ashamed to let her know so.

So I had left, and had been aimlessly wandering through the castle nibbling at the bread slice before I was knocked down, and was flat on my back, staring up into the wide blue eyes of the young boy who rightfully looked upon Mrs Potts and called her 'mother.'

"Are you alright mister?" The young boy asked inquisitively, his mop of blond hair drooping to the side as he tilted his head questioningly.

I just lied there looking up at the boy for a few stunned seconds, before finally regaining my wits and jumping up, only to be attacked by a slobbering, barking furry mess that was relentlessly pouncing at me and pawing at my pants leg.

"Down boy, c'mon Spot, down. I'm sorry mister, he just gets excited around strangers sometimes!" The young boy squealed as he attempted to wrestle the dog away from me. It was quite a sight, to be perfectly honest. I had never been laid low in my entire life, and yet I had been floored by a small boy and his mutt. I could hardly believe it! And when the dog that was currently winning the wrestling match lapped at the remaining bread I realised I had dropped, and gobbled it up without a care, I wanted to yell at them both.

 _Hey, that's mine!_

I glared at the young boy, who had finally gotten enough control over the creature to look up at me from my impressive height. It was rather comical, the way his jaw went slack, and his eyes grew wide and the dog once again got free from his arms and proceeded to dance around us both, yapping for attention.

Perhaps it was my imposing glare or my once flawlessly impressive clothing that tipped the boy off as to who I was, but his wide blue eyes, so like his mothers, started to glisten almost immediately. Finally realising I was most definitely _not_ a person his dog should have run down. I scowled in displeasure at the state of my expensive clothing, now covered in drool, and watched with malicious amusement as fear transformed the boys face. He immediately began to plead with me.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry sir! I didn't mean to bump into you, honest! He was just excited to be going for a walk and mama always said I shouldn't let him off his leash until we get outside but I did and I didn't mean to and I'm so so sorry!" He babbled, tears now freely streaming down his young face. I tried extremely hard to keep the scowl on my face, but at the young man's distressed state, it slowly melted into confusion.

I had never been too good at dealing with kids, especially kids that cried. I had _made_ kids cry when _I_ was a kid, but this was a whole new experience for me. I started to say something, anything, in an attempt to calm the boy's loud weeping, but he just kept right on going, getting more and more hysterical, his face bright red and soaking wet.

"Please don't take Spot away from me Sir! I haven't had him very long. Belle convinced the king to let me keep him, even after he said no. He's my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Please don't tell the king about this mister, I promised I wouldn't let him bother anyone! He'll take Spot away from me if he knew! Please!"

I had to admit, for a moment, a spiteful sort of pleasure shot through me at the thought of rating the boy out, but at the sight of the boy's tears, I decided against it. The look on the kid's face was agonising, and while I shouldn't have sympathised with him, I was certain a part of me did anyway. I was almost horrified when the boys crying turned to loud frantic wheezing. He looked as though he might be having a fit, and in an act of desperation, I got down on one knee, and put my hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Wow wow wow, calm down. I'm not going to tell anyone alright? Please just stop crying!" I practically begged the boy, hoping my words would calm him. Whatever it took to stop the sobbing.

Those big watering blue eyes were a killer, and honestly, he reminded me a little of myself when I use to fake cry to get something I wanted. But this boy wasn't faking it, he was sincere in his fear of his pet being taken away, and I was intrigued to hear Belle's name being mentioned in his rambling, but I would have to ponder on that later. Right now, I was too busy making hushing sounds and begging the boy to cease his tears; how ironic, I had never begged for anything. This was turning out to be a rather funny day.

"Really?" He shakily asked, "You won't tell anyone?"

"No, I will not." I begrudgingly promised. The boy's tears finally ceased, he smiled at me innocently, his dimpled little mouth raising in a way that was kind of... cute.

 _Cute? Are you_ kidding _me?_

"Th-thank you, mister." He told me, rubbing the bare skin of his arm over his wet cheeks in the way only a child could do appropriately. I forced myself to smile at him, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing to set him off again. The dog was being blessedly quiet, sitting by the young man's side, panting and wagging his tail, patiently waiting for attention.

"No problem," I replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. This was an odd situation for me, and honestly, I was not used to being in situations where I wasn't always in complete control. Trying to think of something clever to say, I jumped on the first question that came to mind. "Um, what's your name?" I asked the boy, honestly not remembering. I knew who his 'mama' was, those eyes were an unmistakable shade, but I could not for the life of me ever remember inquiring after the boy.

"Christopher." The boy quietly replied, "but everyone calls me Chip."

"Chip huh? Chip and Spot?" I inquired, attempting to lighten the mood, hoping to simply forget the boy's little tantrum. He let out a watery giggle at my confirmation, and nodded his head enthusiastically, all evidence of his earlier breakdown entirely forgotten.

"Yep!" The boy said, scratching the small dog behind the ear, "Belle and mama helped me name him, Belle said he looked like a Spot 'cause he's got that one spot of brown fur on his back!" He told me excitedly. My ears perked up at hearing Belle's name again. I wanted to ask the kid about her, perhaps interrogate him about the type of person she was, but I held back. What if the boy told her I had asked about her? What if she found out how truly interested I was. Or worse, what if someone _else_ found out.

 _No,_ I warned myself sternly. _Just let it go, no girl is worth this aggravation!_

 _Yep, you just keep telling yourself that._

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

The fresh air had most certainly done me some good. In the past, when I had been burdened with a hangover, I had often locked myself in a sun sealed room with no light and no noise, just roughing it out until the ache had passed. But Mrs Potts tough loving care had made me want to go outside, and face the sunlight. The eggs and bread had done their job, settling the throb in my head and stomach, and though the sunlight made my eyes literally water as though I had not seen it in days, the brisk walk around the grounds had done me some good. I had followed 'Chip' out of one of the castle doors to the gardens after making sure the boy was sufficiently calmed. I could even see him from this distance, throwing a small stick at the excited pup who trampled freshly mowed grass after it, the boy's merry laughter carrying through the air toward me.

His first reaction to me wasn't all that surprising now that I thought about it. The terror that had flashed over his face when he realised my status had been truly gut-wrenching, and I had wondered why someone so young would hold so much fear towards royalty. But then, after thinking about it, a very obvious answer came to mind; Silas.

The king had always had very little patience with children, even when Gaston and I were children we were frequently told to simply stay out of the way. I knew any member of the king's council who had children were expected to send them away to boarding schools at a young age. It wasn't surprising. The castle wasn't the best place to grow up in, and do to Silas's general dislike of children, there was practically no fun to be had. A sad fact little Chip seemed to have learned the hard way. It made me wonder what kind of confrontation he must have had with other high-borns for the boy to look upon me with such fear.

Chip should count himself lucky I had shown him mercy, any other noble would have grabbed the boy by the ear and dragged him to his mother to express their outrage; of that I was certain. Being what he was meant he had no real place in the castle. Too young to be put to work, and too low in status to be given an education, he was most likely free to do as he pleased provided he stayed out of the way and didn't bother anyone.

It may have seemed harsh for a child, but he was a servant's child and it was the king's right to treat his servants and subjects anyway he saw fit, and while I may have had a sympathetic moment towards the young man, I did believe that was the way things should be done.

I was, therefore, rather proud of the way I handled things with Chip. I had made him stop crying, even if I had been the reason he had cried in the first place – and I had made him laugh, and sent him off with a spring in his step and no worries in his head. I was reluctant to admit that I had taken a small liking to the boy, even if I _was_ admittedly terrible with children.

Gaston and I had been horrible as children, and we both knew it. We had terrorised the house staff., made large messes that they were left to clean up, set booby traps for them to walk into, and caused an endless amount of trouble just for the sake of having a good time. We had never been properly punished for any of it, as none of our parents really cared what we did in the privacy of our homes as long as we presented ourselves as well mannered, educated boys at public functions. Because heaven forbid we embarrassed them. My mother especially, would praise my intellect and accomplishments endlessly to her friends and peers when we were forced to attend balls and social gatherings of the rich. But the moment the parties were over, she'd go back to ignoring me, pushing me off on someone else and making me 'their problem.'

If I were truly honest with myself, there was still a part of me that resented her for it. Despite all the years of telling myself, I didn't care what she thought of me, that I couldn't have cared _less_ , the anger - _not_ hurt- of her less than parental attitude was still with me today. Which was why I both hated and... dare I admit it... _envied_ Chip. _He_ had a mother who cared for him. A mother who most likely held him when he cried and rocked him to sleep at night and taught him when he did something wrong, showing him how to correct his mistakes rather than simply ignoring them, and allowing them to escalate. I'd raise a bet, that by the time little Chip was my age, he would be a far better person than I knew myself to be. Not better in any way that mattered of course, like in wealth or status, but just... a better _person_.

I hadn't realised how long I must have been staring at Chip before I saw him wave at me from the distance. I reluctantly raised my hand to give him an embarrassed wave back, (how long had I been staring at this kid?) when a sudden flash of brown caught my attention.

Not even giving my actions a second thought, I ran rather un-regally across the field, past Chip who was watching with confusion, and towards the large barn, I had seen the girl disappear into.

I promised myself I'd stay away, but my fascination was just too much. What secrets must this girl hold, to have made a man like my friend, a man who was notorious for having a different girl in his bed for each day of the week, forgo all other women to be with her?

I got that she was gorgeous, but really, there _had_ to be _something_ more.

Stopping at the side of the barn to catch my breath, I held the stitch in my side for a few moments before raising myself to full height. I intended to introduce myself to the girl, and now was as good a time as any. I could simply go in claiming that I wished to take my borrowed horse out for a ride, and then I'd have an excuse to talk to her. Just one conversation, and then, I was sure, I'd be satisfied.

Straightening my clothing, and running a hand through my hair to ensure it was as straight and perfect as ever, I approached the open barn door. Of course, I retreated back behind it once I heard two voices coming from inside. Her voice, and another male.

"… thank you again for looking after Philippe while he was sick Lumière. If I could have gotten away from the castle I would have come down here sooner, but between the preparations for the prince's return ball and then the clean-up afterwards, I haven't had much free time."

It gave me a strange feeling in my stomach to hear her talking about me. Well, not me _directly_ , but she had mentioned me nonetheless. I peaked my head through an open window right at eye level, so I could see what was happening within. One of the large barn doors was closed, the other wide open, and I hid behind the open one, leaving me shielded if either of them walked out and left without closing the door again. I stayed in that niche, looking through a small dirty window, keeping myself as hidden as possible.

I was looking at Belle and a young man whom I guessed was the stable master's son, Lumière, talking to one another between two stalls while Belle lovingly stroked a brush down the mane of a large brown horse. Its black eyes watched her calmly, occasionally breathing out a breath of steaming cold air through its large nostrils.

"It was no problem, Belle, you know how much I love caring for the horses, and Philippe was an excellent patient. Far quieter than most others I've had to tend to over the years. You will not believe how much some of these horses whine." He replied casually. Belle giggled at the boy's dry sense of humour, and I suddenly felt myself torn. While the sound of her laugh was extremely pleasing, the fact that she was laughing for someone else, another male no less, made me... agitated.

I fidgeted in my hiding place as I peaked my head more fully through the window to watch the two. Lumière was, I begrudgingly admitted, a handsome young man. That was, for a boy who spent all his time shovelling manure. _And who most likely smelled of it too_ , my mind jabbed as a way to console my unexplainable flair of ... whatever it was I was feeling? I didn't even recognise the strangely uncomfortable heat that flared through me. I shook my head as though to clear it and watched the two intently. The boy had long, light brown hair tied to the back of his head, much like Belle. He wore clothing customary for stable hands, obviously hand-me-down and smeared with dirt in places, but the satisfaction I got in seeing he was wearing filthy clothes wasn't enough to overshadow my resentment at the fact that he was the one talking to Belle, and not I.

 _What is wrong with me?_

I had never felt so insecure in all my life, but I had to admit that while this boy was quite filthy, he did look exceptionally well muscled. It left me thinking...

Belle was _with_ Gaston, and she was talking and laughing _with_ this boy, perhaps she preferred men like that.

For the first time in all my life, I felt visually inadequate.

What was I letting this girl _do_ to me?

I was blessedly distracted by a high pitched squeak of laughter, that had me jumping in place and had Belle and Lumière whipping their heads in Chip's direction. From this distance, I could see him rolling around in the dewy grass while the dog jumped and played all over him. Another sweet little giggle from the beautiful brown haired goddess snapped my attention back to the barn. Her light laugh actually made me feel a little... giddy. That was until my gaze turned to Lumière who was looking at Belle with as much fondness as I was sure I was in that moment, and my feelings suddenly turned dark again.

I wanted to charge in there and rip his head off, but the next thing he said surprised me enough to keep me in place, spying through the dusty window. It would appear that spying on this girl was becoming something of a pattern.

"It was good of you to convince the king to let him keep that dog," Lumière told her gently, his words, and whatever secret meaning behind them, immediately grabbed my attention. Chip had told me something similar didn't he, I wondered how..?

"Gaston convinced the king, not me." Belle refuted, with a small shake of her head and a shrug of the shoulder.

There was something in the way Lumière smiled at Belle then, it was a cross between fondness, admirance and sadness. It was the sadness that confused me, but I perked my ears up to hear more, anything that would add to the puzzle that was this lovely belle.

"And we all know who convinced Gaston to convince the king. Gaston couldn't give a damn about that kid Belle, he only asked to keep the dog because _you_ asked him to. And that was really really good of you." He argued gently.

A sweet, oh so lovely blush coloured the girl's rosy cheeks before she ducked her face under her long thick hair and hid it away from me. Again, I was torn, loving the sight of the blush, but hating that it was caused by someone else.

Once she appeared to have recovered from the compliment, she looked back at Lumière, the delightful colour still hovering on her cheeks.

"Well, you know me, I can't deny that kid anything, once he starts with the waterworks I'm a goner." She softly joked, resuming her brushing of the horse that had been gently nudging her for attention.

Lumière let out a throaty chuckle at her words, and I had to bite my own lip to keep from yelling out at him.

"Might have to fix that soon, or he could start taking advantage of it." He told her, his tone half joking, half serious.

The girl shrugged her shoulder, the sweet smile returning to her face.

"Nah, he's a good kid, his mama raised him right. He's going to be a great man someday, and with a face like that, I'll bet he'll break a lot of hearts." She replied fondly. Strange, how she seemed to mirror my earlier thoughts so perfectly. She seemed so sweet. So... nice.

 _Sweet? Nice? Come on Adam, get a grip! Do you remember what happened the last time you thought a girl was nice? She simply can't be all she appears to be, she's with Gaston for heavens sakes! There simply had to be something darker under that fair facade!_

 _Gods, this girl..._

Despite my own insistent scolding, I still wanted to meet her, properly, as I once again acknowledged that three times now I had spied upon her like a stalker, instead of introducing myself like a gentleman. It felt like everything I knew about her was second-hand knowledge and it only made me want to know more. I wanted her to smile at me because I had done something to _make_ her smile, laugh and me because I had done something to _make_ her laugh. I wanted to _earn_ that blush she gave to this undeserving boy so willingly. I wanted to _earn_ her smiles and laughs and looks of affection, instead of witnessing them bestowed upon others.

 _Others. That's right, remember? She doesn't belong to you, she's not your girl._ But then, looking back at the affectionate, caring stares these two were exchanging, I was really starting to wonder... Was she really Gaston's girl either?

This entire situation had me more and more intrigued, but I was determined to solve this riddle. There was something strange going on in this castle, and I was not going to stop until I found out what.


	6. Running With The Wolves Part One

**Chapter Six – Running With The Wolves**

 **Part One**

"Hey, lightweight, didn't see you at all yesterday. _Please_ tell me you made that liaison with that barmaid last the whole weekend, because you most definitely looked like you needed it!" Gaston cackled deeply as he sat himself down beside me at the breakfast table.

After forcing myself to cease and desist with my newly developed voyeuristic habit, I had pretty much marched back to the castle and locked myself in my guest room, sending for a light dinner that I had barely touched to be delivered to my door. It didn't make any sense to me at all that coming to the conclusion that I could not have Belle to myself made me feel even sicker than the hangover I was suffering that morning had done.

I tried to deny it, after all, I had not even _met_ the girl yet. In fact, were it not for the ball that had been thrown in my honour the week before, I doubted the girl would have even known I existed.

The thought was _maddening_.

The whole of the night I had been insisting upon myself to simply forget about the girl and move on. There were, after all, many tasty options within and without, the castle, and the fact that she was the best... well... it simply couldn't be helped.

But then an enticing voice at the back of my mind could counter my sensible decision and insist on the meeting I had been determined for outside the barn. Whispering to me that just _one little conversation_ , one little _encounter_ , would put these strange new wants to rest. She was - after all the _second-hand_ information I had been gathering- a _strange_ girl. A strange choice for Gaston in any case. He had always preferred blonde empty-headed bimbos, and _I_ had always leant towards older, more refined, more _desperate_ , women. Occasionally, we strayed from our preferences, like the barmaid I had taken two nights ago, but Gaston's choice seemed far to way out at sea.

His preference for pretty girls with absolutely nothing in their heads was a hint of his desire to just be the centre of attention. He wanted girls who would stare up at him adoringly and do anything to make him happy and please him. Shallow. My desire for older, wealthy women of good family, who also threw themselves right at me, despite any partners or potential partners, was to sate my need to be needed. I was greedy, selfish, and mean, I did not deny it, but when a woman threw themselves at me... what else would really be expected of me?

Belle; she was an enigma, from what I could tell so far. For one, it was clear she had a brain in that very pretty head of hers. After the way she had moved around the library as though she knew every inch of it, the way she had plucked that book off the top shelves, like she knew _exactly_ where it was, (most likely having read it more than once, I would suspect, since she did call it her favourite) the fact that she had a favourite _book_ in the first place... well... _Intelligent_. So, right there, that was already an odd trait for one of Gaston's women.

 _Then_ , she _appeared_ to be kind. I did not have the best experiences with girls who had appeared sweet and kind on the outside, but I had _seen_ as much when Lumière - gods I hated that kid - had talked about the dog, and of her apparently convincing Gaston to let young Chip keep it, despite the fact that, from what I could recall, there had always been a rule about owning pets inside the castle. And from the way she had stood with Lumière, in a dirty, smelly barn all afternoon, brushing that horse's mane even though I was certain that, despite my confusion on the matter, her job in the castle was _not_ a stable hand, well, that spoke of a caring nature.

She _cared_ for the horse, she clearly cared for Chip, after the way she had spoken so tenderly of him, and – though I was loath to think it – she _appeared_ to care for Mr Foe's son, the way they had talked and laughed, the way he had made her blush, oh yeah, I was sure they cared a _great deal_ for each other.

So; intelligent, kind, caring, compassionate, sweet, soft-spoken and beautiful. All but one I would consider were not Gaston's type, so _what_ _was it_?

Was she just that much of a good lay that he kept her around for the fun of it?

 _Ow!_ I looked down, and realised I had been close to breaking skin with how hard I had been squeezing my fist around my fork.

I felt a sudden, unexpected wave of shame course through me at even thinking such a thing about the red-lipped-rosy-cheeked-mermaid, but I simply did not know what the fuss was about. I had known girls who had appeared to me as angels in the past, only to reveal their snake heads later in the relationship. And that was why I had gotten next to no sleep last night, all of these thoughts and feelings rehashing themselves over and over, each trying to dominate. Whenever I'd commit to the notion of simply dropping the subject and leaving it alone for good, an enticing voice would whisper that just one conversation with the girl was _bound_ to clear up any and all confusion.

And around and around the debate went again.

 _Speaking of confusion..._

"Well?" Gaston's voice demanded, and I realised almost too late that he had asked me a question, and was still waiting on a reply. I ran my hand through my shoulder length hair and tried to brush the incident off.

"It was fine, she was... fine," I said, disinterestedly. The girl had been out of my mind almost as soon as I was out of her bed. I didn't dwell on the memories of bed partners unless they had done something truly spectacular between the sheets.

"Just _fine_? Without a doubt, that girl was a virgin and the experience was just _fine_?" Gaston scoffed, a little too loudly for my comfort since there were other guests at the table. In the past, I had never even cared how many people knew of my escapades, why now..?

"Yes, it was fine! And since when do you laminate the pros of a virgin anyway, I thought you liked girls with experience?" I asked him snidely. His features darkened, and the clear lust that shone through in that moment almost made me regret my snarky comment.

"I've found a new appreciation for them." He murmured, a sinister implication in his tone I did not want to think on.

"Well I know at least one thing from last night," I said gamely, attempting to get his mind out of whatever gutter I had just encouraged it into. It worked, his darkened, lewd expression melted away and he raised a black eyebrow at me.

"I am _never_ drinking that much beer again, _ever_." I insisted.

His boisterous laugh made me feel better about my slip.

" _Bitch_." He muttered under his breath, putting a full fried egg into his mouth.

" _Whore_." I jeered back, and we both had to swallow our grunting chuckles behind our hands to keep the food in our mouths from splaying anywhere else.

After a few more moments of silent eating, I decided to pursue something that had been grating on me.

"Can I ask you something?" I questioned Gaston, who was currently slicing into a large piece of cooked ham with a carvery knife. His attention turned to me and he gave me an odd look and a small shrug in reply; enough encouragement for me to continue.

"I met a boy yesterday," I started, downplaying the incident for anyone at the table with wondering ears. Several of the king's councilmen and their wives, who were high enough in rank to sit at the royal table, were eating with us this morning, though the king was still absent.

"A boy?" Gaston replied disinterestedly, spearing the ham and biting a large piece off his fork.

"Yeah, Mrs Potts son, I think. He had a dog with him, inside the castle, and I was wondering, how that _happened_ exactly. Didn't your father tell you no when you wanted a dog at his age?" I questioned, trying to appear blasé and unconcerned in my line of questioning. Gaston's face darkened again, and I would guess it was him remembering one of the rare occasions he had ever been told 'no' by anybody. We had both been spoiled brats, but our parents still held all the control, and Silas was the furthest thing from a pushover.

"Oh... that." He snorted, swallowing his food, his Adam's apple bobbing largely.

"The mutt showed up at the castle gates one night, and apparently the boy found it and hid it in his room for days. When his mother finally realised, she went to father and asked him if the brat could keep the beast. As I recall, his exact words were, 'if my own son was not allowed a dog at your boy's age, why should he be.'" He let out a little snicker, clearly amused by his father's harsh words to the woman. I swallowed down my distaste and fixed my face into a simple curious look.

"But he got to keep it anyway," I responded, with just the hint of a question mark. Gaston grimaced, as though he had tasted something unpleasant, before he went back to looking bored.

"Yeah, well, I convinced him to let the boy have it, said there'd be no hard feelings."

Yes, I remembered Lumière saying something about that when I was spying on them. Knowing I was most likely setting myself up for disaster, I let a few previously unuttered words slip through my lips.

"That was... kind of you." I told him unsure, the words sounding so strange, for I was certain I had never accused Gaston of being 'kind' before. But I did not want him to know how obviously I was fishing for information.

He looked right back at me, as a classic smirk grew. A moment of panic, thinking I was about to be caught out, was drowned when he replied, "Yes, well, it was paid for." He purred amusingly, spearing another piece of meat with his fork.

 _What does he mean 'paid for'._ Did he mean with coin or with... something else? I remembered Lumière telling... Belle... it was good of her to convince Gaston to go to the king about the young boy's pet, but how did she _convince_ him exactly?

Did she talk him into it? Did she..? Did she..?

"Peter!" Gaston suddenly bellowed from beside me, and I jumped in my seat before watching the senior server in black and white waiting attire hobble towards Gaston, bow at the waist and stand to attention behind him.

"Yes, young master?" The wrinkly old man croaked.

"Tell the kitchen staff I want Belle serving me dinner tonight. And tell her I want her in my _favourite_ dress. She'll know which one I'm talking about." Gaston told the old man firmly, dismissing him with a simple flick of his wrist.

My mouth almost hit the table as the server replied, "yes Your Majesty." Before bowing once more and exiting the room in a poised respectable fashion.

"I do love her in that dress." He murmured with a smile, more to himself than anything, before he took another bite of ham and the moment was promptly forgotten.

But not by me, not by a long shot.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I hadn't meant to eavesdrop again, but it felt like everywhere I went now, I heard that girl's name. It was spoken of in tones of respect and affection from most of their mouths, and it would seem that she was well-liked amongst her peers. _Peers_ , I thought, almost mockingly. I _still_ didn't know what it was the girl did, though I was starting to get the impression that my first assumption had been a correct one. That she was free to do as she pleased about the castle because she kept the prince's bed warm at night. But none of the workers in that room had spoken her name with any kind of sneering or distaste, they had only seemed worried about the girl's well-being.

It was mere hours after breakfast, and Gaston had disappeared with one of his father's council members, presumably attending one of his mandatory lessons on how to run this kingdom, much to my friend's disdain. He had been grouching about it at breakfast, as well as the amount of time he was spending on the preparations for his coronation. I felt a small amount of pity for the castle staff really. Gaston's name day celebration would come less than a month after the kingdoms famous Winter Solstice parade, and as both events would require an awful lot of planning as well as cleaning up, when you added in the preparation my welcoming gala must have taken, the people would be run off their feet during the months to come. Funny, how I had never given any thought to the helps plight before. Not once. And now suddenly, they were all I could seem to think about.

Anyway, those had been around the same thoughts I had been entertaining when I had heard the girl's name uttered in a rather hushed and frantic tone, and backtracked only to realise I had passed the library doors, which were open just a crack, just far enough for me to discreetly spy on the small group of staff that were huddled in there. Through the crack, I could see Mrs Potts, the server from breakfast Peter, the same small maid who had been in the kitchen with Mrs Potts yesterday morning and Chip, who was looking up at the adults whispering amongst themselves with a confused little pucker in his forehead.

"Are you sure you looked everywhere? The boiler room, her room, master Gaston's suite?" Mrs Potts questioned frantically, in her hands lay the purple hat she had been wearing the day before, which she twisted and wrung in an obvious attempt to dispel her nerves.

"Yes, I also checked the hospice and the infirmary, and all the staff say they haven't seen her in days." The small maid replied, a look of worry on her face mirroring that of Mrs Potts.

 _What was going on here?_

"It's not there!" I heard another voice yell, and was startled when I recognised it as Lumière. What was he doing here? I strained my head to the side in time to see the young man slide down the library ladder with ease and sprint towards the group. What's _not there?_ I thought.

"Are you certain you checked the right place? Eighth shelf, red book to the right?" Mrs Potts responded, looking more and more agitated by the moment.

Lumière nodded, "Yes I'm sure. The books gone. It's her favourite right? She must have taken it and hid somewhere." The boy replied.

Alright, I was obviously missing something here. All the servants huddled in the small group looked worried and anxious. Lumière went to stand beside the pretty brunette young maid, and I watched him take her hand in his almost subconsciously, stroking his thumb over the back of it in a calming gesture as the girl looked worriedly at Mrs Potts, not seeming to notice at all.

"This is bad. The young master requested Belle to serve him dinner this evening, if we can't find her before then, there is no doubt she will be punished for it." The kindly woman said hurriedly. The old man who had taken the message for Gaston piped up then, saying, "I could always claim that I simply forgot to tell her. The prince would scold me for it, I am sure, but at least no harm would come to young Belle."

My own confusion increased at the situation, my attention stamping on the word 'harm.' Surely Gaston wouldn't harm the girl for missing one dinner, would he? It was considered most unsavoury to discipline servants with physical abuse. Slavery had been abolished in this country for centuries, and though a servant was technically their master's property, beating a servant was something only the lowest of rich blood would do. There was no way Gaston would sink so low. Was there?

I heard a scoff, and brought my attention back to the young stable hand, who was looking at Peter indignantly.

"Yeah right, like Belle would let you take the fall for her. She'd probably run to the Prince and tell him she ignored his demand on purpose rather than see anyone else get the blame."

As ridiculous as I found the boy's claim, the nods and looks of resignation that past through the small group gave his words some credibility.

"We have to find her before dinner is served, is there anywhere else we haven't thought of to look?" Mrs Potts asked her comrades, who all shared looks of confusion and obvious loss. I was finally beginning to understand their urgency, when the little boy, who had previously been ignored during their panic, suddenly piped up.

"You could check the woods!" He suggested with a smile, clearly oblivious to the adult's frantic urgency. "Belle told me the trees like to be read to." His high pitched voice declared.

Mrs Potts looked down at her child as though she were about to explain why he had to be wrong, but then closed her open mouth and covered it with her hand.

The woods? As in, the woods surrounding the castle? Didn't she know how dangerous that could be? How many wild animals there were out there?

A round of small moans spread through the group, indicating such behaviour was not uncommon of Belle.

"Surely she wouldn't, not at this hour, its much to dangerous out there in the dark!" The attractive young girl in the maid's outfit said. Lumière let out small groan beside her, running his left hand down his long face in frustration, his right still casually clutched in the maids.

"She loses track of time when she reads, she always says so, and yesterday..." His words trailed off, and he looked at the floor guiltily. I wanted to run in and strangle him for knowing so much about her, so much more than I did, but I was too enthralled by what I was hearing to disrupt anything.

Mrs Potts looked at Lumière accusingly. "Yesterday _what_ young man?" She asked him sternly. Her light blue eyes, normally so kind, could have cracked anyone under the weight of that hardened stare.

Lumière shifted uncomfortably in place for several moments before he broke. "Yesterday she was in the barn with me and a messenger came down from the castle with a letter. I could tell whatever was on it had made her sad, so I asked her. She made me promise not to tell anyone but... it's her father. His condition is getting worse. She probably went into the woods to escape from it all." The boy explained in a rush, shamed.

Wait, what? Her father? Her father was in the castle too?

Wait, didn't Gaston say something about that? My first night here, the first night I saw her? Didn't he say something about her moving in with her 'tinpot' father? I had honestly completely forgotten about his words, far to focused was I on the girl he claimed as his own. Now I was starting to understand.

Apparently, Peter must have gone down to the kitchen after breakfast and told the staff, which included Mrs Potts, about Gaston's request. And Mrs Potts must have been the one to go off in search for Belle to pass the message along, considering her motherly nature and willingness to help others. And when she obviously couldn't find her, she recruited some help, and now, from the uneasy looks that were being shared by the group, I had to assume that the only logical place Belle could have been was in the woods outside the castle. Where she had gone to, apparently, find some peace from bad news she had received about her father, whom, I assumed was most likely sick in the castle's hospice if his 'condition was getting worse.' Information she had received from a letter that must have been delivered after I had stormed off yesterday afternoon. And now she was lost in the woods? _Alone_?

Alright, I figured now would be a good time to butt in.

Placing my hand flat on the door, I pushed it open quickly, scaring almost every person in the huddled group. Only Mrs Potts relaxed upon seeing it was me at the door, as they had all probably feared it would be the other prince they had been gossiping about.

"Do you know whereabouts in the woods she would most likely be?" I asked, getting straight to the point of things. I did not even attempt to cover up the fact that I had been eavesdropping.

They all gaped at me open-mouthed before Mrs Potts took a step forward in my direction, hastily replacing the hat atop her head to cover her nerves.

"Your Highness, you do not need to concern yourself with Belle. Young Lumière here knows the woods quite well, as does his father. They will find her, and bring her back before anyone even notices she's gone." The woman told me, her voice quaking.

Huh, she thought I meant to report all of this, most likely to Gaston since it was widely known what close friends we were, but running off and tattling to him about it was never my intention. I had more dignity than that. At least, I liked to think so.

I ignored Mrs Potts hidden plea for a moment and turned my attention to Lumière, who had dropped the maid's hand upon my entrance and was now standing in front of her, in a somewhat protective stance. How amusing, that he thought I meant to hurt anyone. My sole focus at that moment was Belle, the girl behind him meant nothing to me.

"Do _you_ know what part of the woods she is most likely to be?" I repeated, hating that I had to ask him for anything, but I wanted to find her as quickly as possible, and even with my tracking skills, the woods were a big place.

The boy actually had the nerve to narrow his eyes at me. Flicking some dirty hair out of his face, he replied petulantly, "I can find her out there on my own Your Majesty, I assure you. I won't take that long, my father and I have ridden out there plenty of times and I..."

"Do not patronise me, boy!" I told him coldly, straightening my back and throwing back my shoulders. "I have been hunting in those woods more times than you could count - if you could indeed count at all - and can assure you I know those woods far better than you and your father combined. Now tell me what I want to know so that I can go and fetch the girl." I ordered sternly, harshly.

Perhaps I was over-asserting my authority in this instance, but whether I was the heir to this kingdom or not, I was still of royal blood, and a servant had absolutely no right to refuse me anything, even other people's servants. Plus, I did not want him to be the one going to get Belle. I wanted to do that. I had been desperate to meet her for days, and I hated how all these people, all these _lower ranking_ people, knew her so much better than I did. Had known her for at least a year longer. I didn't know why I cared so much, but the anger I had felt upon watching the happy laughs and tender expressions that had been shared between this boy and Belle yesterday couldn't be ignored. And the idea that there could be something between them, something more than a simple friendship, made me, surprisingly, furious. I would not let him win this argument. The only one who would be going to get that girl was _me_.

Whether it was my fierce tone, my hardened stare or the nudge the boy received from the maid behind him, he finally relented. With a small sigh, he said, "North of the castle's main entrance gates, there's a small stream she likes to sit out by. It's marked by two big intertwined trees about three miles away. Do you know the way or do you want me to take you?" He asked, a little too much sass in his tone for my liking.

I knew the place he had described. It was a beautiful location, and an easy place to hunt, since where there was water, there would normally be life.

"No, I know the way. I'll need my horse saddled and ready. I'll go now."


	7. Running With The Wolves Part Two

**Chapter Seven -** **Running With The Wolves**

 **Part Two**

And so there I was moving my horse at a trot through the woods. I knew that by the time I reached the entwined trees, otherwise known as 'the lover's tree' the foliage would get too thick for my horse to fit through, but otherwise, the walk would have taken an hour, and I did not have that kind of patience. Being late in the year, the sky was already darkening for this time in the afternoon, and I did not have long before I had to return the girl in time for dinner. I had come prepared, and had even brought my muscat with me, just in case I ran into anything unpleasant this deep in the woods.

Honestly, what had that girl been thinking, coming all the way out here just to read? I remembered the third morning after my arrival when Gaston had interrupted her reading in the library, and guessed that she just wanted a few hours somewhere she knew she would not be interrupted. Well if that was her wish, she was about to be very disappointed.

The entwined trees were easy to find, two huge oaks with roots that spread thirty feet out in each direction, looming up to massive trunks they intertwined like human lovers before reaching gods knew how high into the air. They were two trees, living as one, and many couples had found the symbolism romantic, even taking the trip out here to carve their initials into both massive trunks. I had never found any interest in the thing. It was, after all, just a tree. Thanks to my parent's dysfunctional relationship, I suffered no romantic delusions about anything.

I hated thinking about my parents, so the abrupt distraction should have actually come as something of a relief. It was terribly unfortunate that the distraction came in the form of a loud terrified scream.

I wasted no time; throwing myself off my horse, I flung the large rifle over my back before tearing through the woods towards the sound of the girl's screech. The stream was not far from the entwined trees, a minute run at most, but as every second the screaming became louder and more terrified, it felt as though I were running in tar for all the distance I was covering.

When I finally tore through the last of the obstacles, the sight that greeted me had me shaking.

There she was, the girl I had been so fixated on for days now, the centre of all the fussing in my head, crouching high on a tree while below six snarling, yapping grey wolves attempted to get to her. Her cloak was ripped, her hair was flying in every direction and her face was streaming with tears as she screamed in terror. As I watched, stunned, one of the animals bounded up, claws tearing viciously into the wood, his jaws clamping around the girl's loose billowing cape, ripping another piece away with its teeth before landing angrily back on the ground. The girl's balance thrown, she slipped, her foot dangling from the branch she was clinging to for dear life as she desperately righted herself before the wolves could attack this new target. Her cry of panic snapped me out of my frozen haze.

The fear in her brown eyes made me see red.

Not thinking twice, I cocked my gun and fired a warning shot into the air, effectively drawing the creatures attentions to me. Their bodies tensed at the new trespass to their hunt and they growled at me, voicing their obvious displeasure at my intrusion. I realised my mistake. In my haste to protect the girl, I had put myself in their sights far too soon, and now I had to hurriedly reload my rifle before the pack decided I was an easier target than the stunned girl in the tree.

I didn't take my eyes from them as I rapidly reloaded. Thanks to my years of experience I could load a gun in my sleep. The warning shot had stunned them, but they were starting to regain their confidence. In a flash, one of the large snarling wolves bounded right at me, and my only saving grace was the small stream that slowed the beast down a tenth of a second, just enough for me to cock my gun. The weight of the beast hitting me square in the chest knocked me to the ground, and the bullet went into the beast just as its claws dug into my arm. I hissed as the small daggers shredded right through my fine clothes and into my left bicep, but I didn't have time to feel the pain. I pushed the dead animal away from me with the gun, and leapt back up on my feet, making myself as tall as possible, trying to intimidate the hungry creatures. The rest of the pack were still there. They were still snarling and snapping their jaws, but they were retreating.

Clever beasts, they know they are outmatched.

Thinking one last shot would do the trick I slotted the last bullet into my rifle and took my aim. The third bullet pierced the leg of the biggest wolf I could see, and the animal's howl of pain was finally enough encouragement to send the pack scampering off, the wounded wolf simpering and staggering after them. I could have killed the thing, it would have been easy, but a stun shot worked just as well if not better. They were wild wolves, and needed to be taught why humans were truly the ones to be feared in the woods. We could be beasts when we wanted to be.

I held my standoffish position until I heard the howls fade into the distance. Finally determining we were safe from any future attacks, I relaxed from my defensive position and put my full attention on the quaking girl in the tree.

She appeared to be unharmed, just shook up. Her hair was in complete disarray, scattered from the ponytail I was used to seeing and hanging frazzled and low around her face. She had lost one of her shoes, presumably in her haste to escape the animals before they surrounded her. It was clever of her to seek high ground before they got to her. Most people in the sights of wild animals would freeze up and face the consequences. Even people who had weapons were more likely to be carried off by a pack unless they knew how to really use it.

Anger surged through me at the thought. How foolish this girl was! To venture alone into the woods at a time of year when darkness could be on you in a matter of moments. Lost track of time indeed. Anything could have happened to her out here, and if I hadn't shown up, anything would have.

I wanted to rave at her for being so irresponsible and idiotic, but one look upon the girl's frightened, pale, tear tracked face and I forced such thoughts out of my mind. She needed to be calmed, or she would sink into shock, and as I knew nothing about medicine, I would be pretty useless if she started having a panic attack.

I forced my voice to remain placid and level as I turned to face her fully, hands raised. "Are you alright?" I asked.

 _Stupid idiot, of course, she's not alright, she was just attacked by wolves! What is wrong with you?!_

 _She should be grateful I'm not raging at her, the little fool, how could she have been so daft to come all the way out here alone!_

Before I could finish my little internal debate, the girl spoke.

"I'm alright... thanks to you." She stammered.

And there it was. Finally, she had spoken to me.

An inappropriate smile threatened to stretch across my face, but I bit it back; the girl was still shaking like a leaf, hunched over on a thick tree branch, and did not need me scaring her any further. Throwing the gun back over my shoulder, I carefully crossed the small stream towards her, never taking my eyes away from the girl. She had stopped crying, but her big hypnotising chromatic orbs were still wide with fear. Not fear for me directly, I sensed, but fear from what she had just endured. Despite how angry I was with her reckless behaviour, I was so relieved I had gotten here in time. One minute later...

"Can you get yourself down from the tree, or do you want me to help you?" I asked as gently as I was able, shaking such unpleasant thoughts away. I'd have to offer my sincerest thanks to Mrs Potts once we returned to the castle. If it wasn't in her nature to be a worrier, I most likely would never have discovered Belle was missing. I was also feeling a little smug in that moment as well, because if the stable master's son, Lumière had come for Belle, they both would have been bait for that pack of wolves.

She should be glad someone, as experienced as myself, had gone after her, if not... I shook the thoughts away again, not wanting to linger on the alternative.

"I-I can g-get down, thank you." She stammered shakily, and I watched her do just that, as she twisted her body until both her legs were on the edge and then pushed herself down until she was dangling above the ground. Finally, she released her grip on the branch and dropped on the leaf infested forest floor, throwing out her arms so she wouldn't stumble. Neither of us noticed her cloak getting caught on the branch until we heard a large tear, and both looked up to see it had been torn almost wholly in two. Sighing, the girl untied the knot from around her neck and let the pieces of useless clothing fall slowly to the floor. It was only then that she looked back at me.

"Thank you, again. I... I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't shown up. So thank you." She repeated, running her hands up and down her bare arms either for warmth or comfort, I didn't know. She shivered, obviously thinking on the unpleasant alternatives as I had. I didn't want her thinking that way. I was here now, and I would protect her.

 _Wait, what? What happened to_ being _angry with her, you should be yelling at this stupid girl right now. She could have gotten you both killed!_

But for some reason, I didn't have the heart to berate her in that moment, she still looked shook up, virtually shivering from the shock as she held her body tightly and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

I sighed. "Here," I said, untieing my cape from around my neck and handing it out to her. "Take this, it's a little torn but it's better than nothing," I told her, but she wasn't looking at me. She gasped in horror, and I spun sharply, alarmed. Expecting to see the return of the pack of hungry wolves. But when I spotted nothing but trees and the small stream still gently flowing past, I looked back at her for an explanation, only to find her staring at the arm I had just exposed.

"You're hurt." She choked out and closed the remaining space between us to lay her fingers on the wound I had all but forgotten.

In that moment I could have been in all the agony in the world and not have noticed.

Her touch; there was a kind of softness to it that would not bruise a flower. I had been giving little attention to the throbbing at the top of my arm were the wolves claws had bit, but her gentle caress took any and all remaining pain away. I looked at her, but she was not looking back, too concerned with the four small oozing gashes to pay me any mind. It was just as well, watching her look at me like that, with such genuine concern, made my non-existing heart thump.

No one had ever looked at me like that before. She had just been through a terrible ordeal, but her focus was completely on me, a look of worry furrowing her brow as her fingers, soft as butter, embraced the torn skin of my arm. For a second, I wished I could freeze that moment in time, with her looking at me so tenderly, but in the next moment I shook my head, and abruptly stepped away, leaving her arm to fall limply at her side.

It was a shame to ruin the moment, but the sooner I got her out of these woods the better. I was expecting her to break down over what just happened at any minute, and I wanted her safely atop my horse heading back towards the castle when that happened, so I could ensure her health when we got there.

"It's nothing, I can't even feel it, but we had best get back to the castle before it gets any darker," I told her, lightly throwing my red cloak over her back and tying a small knot at her neck. I watched her take a hold of her hair and bring it over the cloak, internally moaning as she did so.

 _I wish I had thought to do that, I wonder if her hair feels as soft as her skin._

 _Focus._

"Come," I said, not as rudely as it sounded, and led the way to where I had left my horse. I wanted to lean over and take her hand as she was walking so close behind me, but I didn't know if she could handle me touching her just yet. She was clearly still shaken up, and holding hands with a complete stranger was, I was sure, the last thing she would want.

How odd, that I would only focus on what she wanted.

We walked back towards the horse in silence, and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief once I saw the large beast grazing at some of the grass, exactly where I left him. Walking over to the creature, I watched him eye me and my new company curiously. I grabbed his reigns and led him over to the girl, careful not to spook either of them.

"Do you need my help mounting?" I asked her, and watched her cringe slightly at the suddenness of my speech.

Great, I scared her. This was not the way I had envisioned our first meeting. I had wanted to charm her, introduce myself properly, and give a good first impression. Not show up when she was half scared out of her mind being attacked by wild animals.

She shook her head lightly, still rubbing at her arms from beneath the shredded cape. "No, you're injured, I can mount on my own. But thank you." She replied. I was about to protest my injury, when she slowly approached the horse and gave his rear a small stroke before placing her hands on his saddle and hoisting herself up with an expertise of one who had performed the act dozens of times before. I did not know a lot of girls who enjoyed riding, so could not help but be impressed with her finesse, and also with the way she seemed to put the horse at ease. This was not my horse, as this was not my home, so even as a trained horse, the creature had been wary and skittish of me when I had first mounted it to joust with Gaston, but the way Belle stroked her fingers over its mane, whispering soothing noises in its ears, I was almost envious. Envious of a horse. Oh my, what was this girl doing to me?

But I was grateful for the creature's presence in that moment, because the animal seemed to have as much of a soothing effect on Belle as Belle had on it. As she cooed softly in its ear, her shakes and tremors seemed to dissipate. So, I could add one more thing to my small list of facts I knew about her; she liked horses. Or, perhaps she just liked animals in general: though after tonight, I was going to guess that her fondness for wolves would have vanished completely.

Doing my best not to jostle either of them, I hoisted myself up behind the girl, resisting the urge to smell her hair or wrap my arms around her waist. I did need to lean over her to reach the reins, and the heat coming off of her body was simply delicious, but this was neither the time nor place, and not wanting to scare the girl further, simply kicked the horse lightly into motion and led him back towards the castle.

Knowing that we'd most likely run into a small congregation of people if we entered through the main castle gates, I led the horse to a more private entrance for people who wanted to remain inconspicuous. The door was, of course, guarded, but one look at my face and the two guards manning the entrance opened the large double doors for us without a single word of opposition.

I couldn't see Belle's face, and I didn't want her to think too hard about what had just happened, so I kept quiet, and simply trotted the horse towards the large stables. It was dark by now, the sun just setting, and I had no idea what time it was, the only light being shone on the grounds were the many lit candles beaming out of the large castle off to the left of us. The stables, were, of course, hidden at the back, as no esteemed guests really wanted to be greeted with the sight of it. We rode the horse up the small secluded path towards the dark stables. Once there we both dismounted, me hovering my hands around her just in case she would fall, but she slid down from the horse with perfect ease, and then turned to face me.

"You should probably get that cleaned up." She whispered timidly, and I almost couldn't remember what she was talking about in the sweet caress of her voice. Until her fingers reached out to touch me again, only to withdraw suddenly, her arms falling flat at her sides.

 _No!_ I wanted to cry out; _you can't leave me yet, we've hardly talked at all!_

Looking down at the four small scratches on my right arm, I knew they were not serious. They weren't even bleeding anymore. As long as it was cleaned and then bandaged, it would be fine, possibly not even scar. However, if I could use my injury to get her to stay with me a little longer, I was going to do it.

"Can't you do that for me?" I asked her rather challengingly. I was not above reminding her that the only reason I was injured was because of her own foolishness.

She looked up at me wide-eyed, obviously hearing the slight accusatory note in my tone. Her hand went to her hair, perhaps subconsciously, and tucked a few strands behind her ear. Her hair was still in complete disarray, but that didn't make her any less beautiful. Looking as though she were contemplating my question, I almost groaned when her teeth caught her bottom lip and a delightful red blush stained her creamy cheeks. Her big brown eyes beamed up at me, and my whole body seemed to sag in relief when she gave me a small nod in acquiesce.

But I couldn't help but wonder; why was she so hesitant in the first place?

I led the horse into the stables and she rushed ahead of me to fetch and light a candle. I was grateful for the light, as it helped me guide the horse into its stall while also helping me to see her better. All the other creatures in the barn were quietly sleeping, and I was thankful for the silence, as well as the privacy and the thrill of knowing we were the only two people in here. We were alone.

She stood holding the burning candle on a plate and watched me silently as I removed the horse's saddle and accessories and locked the stall door behind me. Turning back to her, she nodded her head towards the backs of the stables.

"The worker's kitchens are through here." She told me quietly and walked back through the large stable with me following behind. There was not much light as we entered a cleaner, more hygienic part of the stables, but the girl rushed around the kitchen lighting all the candles she could find while I closed the door and moved towards the most comfortable looking chair in the small room.

It was unusual for an ordinary stable to have a kitchen attached, but on castle grounds, with many horses and therefore many stable hands, it was more convenient for them to have their own place to eat. For one, it kept most of the workers separated in their stations, and for another, it meant that visitors and nobles who occupied the castle would not have to see dirty workers trampling through the castle towards the main kitchens to eat.

But despite the sheer size of the large stables, the worker's kitchen was rather small. A little stove and food preparation area to the back of the room, a small pantry off to the side of that, and three wooden tables with several dozen chairs around them. That was basically it aside from a few barrels of water and cooking utensils scattering the sides. I was unused to spending time in places so bleak and cramped, and couldn't help making comparisons between the nobles dining room and this. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do with myself.

The feeling was one-sided I realised, as I watched the girl move about the space with ease. She seemed to know where everything was and it made me uneasy, noticing how familiar she seemed with her surroundings. As she filled a pot of water from the barrel and moved it to the stove to boil. As she rifled through the cupboards and pulled free a grey raggedy looking cloth. As she carefully wrestled a small wooden bowl from the stack of dishes balancing haphazardly on the counter-top; she did it all with perfect comfort.

Knowing how uncouth most men working as stables hands could be, I wondered how Belle could even stand to spend so much time in here as it appeared she did. Didn't she prefer being in the castle, in the library or her room or whatnot?

I remembered her time in here with the young stable master's son Lumière, and couldn't help the angry set of my jaw at thinking _he_ was the reason she retreated down here.

Gaston was one thing; but a lower class, dirty, uneducated, uncivilised stable hand? That was _quite_ another.

Thinking of that boy's unsophisticated appearance suddenly made me panic. What did I look like right now? I hadn't checked a mirror since this morning, and after our little tussle in the woods, I couldn't imagine that I looked my best. Not at all! My eyes frantically searched a reflective surface while Belle was busy keeping an eye on the boiling water on the stove. I practically dove for a metal tablespoon I was lucky enough to spot, and drew it close to me, staring down into it to assess myself as much as I could in the low light. My long light auburn hair seemed frazzled and unkempt, and I hastened to correct it before she turned to face me again. My clothing was, unfortunately, a lost cause. My shirt had a gash in the centre where the beast had pounced on me, as well as dirt and fur from where its wet body had rubbed against mine. _Disgusting creatures_ , I thought bitterly, straightening my shirt as much as I could. I was so focused on my appearance, that the sound of Belle's soft sing-song voice literally made me jump about half a foot in the air; I had almost forgotten she was there.

"Now I don't know much about dressing wounds, but I can clean it if you want me to." She said, closer to me than I was prepared for. A beautiful pink blush stole over her pale cheeks as she took in how startled I was, and I was afraid I was flushed in similar embarrassment, though I was sure it did not look as attractive on me as it did on her.

 _Pull yourself together. Since when are you embarrassed around a girl?_

I straightened in the chair, acting as though the moment didn't happen as she ducked her head down, half hiding her face in a blanket of lovely brunette hair as she mumbled a soft, "sorry."

I shook my head dismissively, "I'm fine." I lied.

Belle, with a bowl of steaming water and the shabby washcloth in hand, set the items down on the table and went to fetch the candle and a chair for herself. Placing the candle down as well, she pulled a small wooden chair over to me, the legs scraping against the floor softly before she settled down.

Her body was so close to mine, her knees just grazing my own, and I had a hard time removing my eyes from her face as she dipped the rag lightly into the hot water and wrung it out before turning her body to face my wounded arm.

"Now this might sting a little." She told me gently, as though she were attempting to soothe a child. I wanted to chuckle at the implication of her thinking me innocent. I was the furthest thing from innocent this girl had most likely ever seen, but I could not deny the unfamiliar warm sensation that flowed through me when she spoke to me as though she cared.

Despite my efforts to remain poised, I hissed a little as she gently placed the cloth to the scratches on my arm, the water flaring the pain once again. She mumbled another apology but kept going, completely focused on her task. Her touch was so pleasant, despite the pain, but I wasn't satisfied with her silence. I wanted to hear her voice, wanted her to talk to me.

I decided to make the first move.

"Are you alright, after what happened earlier?" I asked her. She seemed perfectly fine after mounting the horse, even though she had just faced a terrible ordeal and almost died a mere hour before. Any other girl would have cracked by now, and though I wasn't exactly good with dealing with girls and crying, I would happily hold her if she wanted to weep all over me.

Her gaze shot to mine rather quickly, surprise and confusion bright in her eyes. I was about to inquire as to what was so confusing about my question, when she spoke, "You're the one who's injured, but you're asking me if I'm alright?" She sounded astonished.

Ah, now I understood. The girl was clearly not used to thinking of herself over others, and thought I was being noble or chivalrous by putting her feelings above my own. And that surprised her. Why? Was she not used to people caring about her, or was she just not used to _royalty_ caring about her?

I waved my hand through the air dismissively, not wanting her to think me weak, I gestured down to my wounded arm, "It's nothing, as I said, I can hardly feel it. And I've had worse injuries in my time. No need to worry." I told her with a smile.

Her delightful pink blush lit the sweet skin of her face again, and she hid behind her thick locks once more. Then suddenly the sweet blush died, and sadness replaced her soft eyes as she stared through her hair at the scratches on my arm.

"You wouldn't have it if it weren't for me." She mumbled repentantly.

I almost growled. "Well, I'm not going to argue with you on _that_ one," I told her coldly. She cringed at my tone, but I wanted her to know my displeasure at her going off into the woods alone. From what I could recall, the girl had been living here for over a year. Didn't she know by now how many animals littered those woods, and how dangerous it was, especially for a young maiden alone at night? Granted, it hadn't been night when she had left, but it was getting darker, sooner, every day we grew closer to winter. I did not want her attempting to do something so foolish again, so I simply held my hard stare to her wet brown eyes until she relented, looking down at her hands in shame.

"I'm sorry. I only went into the woods so I could have a few hours alone. I always lose track of time when I'm reading and I just..." She trailed off, and then let out a gasp of horror. My eyes widened in confusion as I leant my head back to take in the girl's distressed state. She suddenly looked as though she were about to cry, water literally trembling on the tips of her eyelashes.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, both confused and mortified that I may have said something that had made her react so. She brought a quivering hand to her chest and let out a shaky exhale, before pressing the warm wet rag back to my arm, breathing shallowly.

" _What's wrong_?" I repeated sternly. I was not used to being ignored. When I asked a question, I expected a fast and honest reply.

She shook her head as though she thought to deny me, but then seemed to think better of it; her voice shook with sorrow as she whispered; "I left my book in the woods."

 _That's it?_ I wanted to yell at her. I was really worried it was something serious for a second there; the way she had behaved, I thought that possibly the events of the evening were finally catching up with her. But no, she was concerned over a _book_?

"That's all?" I responded haughtily. Her eyes snapped up to me again, and for the briefest of moments I believed I caught a flash of anger lingering in her irises, but then it quickly vanished, and in its place; grief.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," she murmured, not confrontationally, or snootily, simply with resignation as though she expected nothing less.

 _Now, wait just a moment!_

"Try me," I challenged, my voice returning to its usual caviler manner, offended at the possibility of her thinking herself cleverer than me. I was certain she was wrong. I had received a far superior education than she, I had no doubt, and had no doubt there was nothing this girl knew that I could not understand.

Whether it was my confrontational words or my curt tone, she took me up on the challenge.

"It was my favourite book, only a few dozen made of its kind, and the only copy in the castle library." She told me boldly, pressing hard down on my wounded arm. My hiss of displeasure made her loosen her grip, but I was not content to let the matter stay. I would _not_ let her beat me.

"And what exactly is so appealing about this book that you would risk your own life wondering into the woods, alone and unprotected I might add, just to read it?" I demanded to know.

She huffed at me. _Huffed!_ As though I were a petulant child rather than a man who could most likely have her imprisoned for showing me such disrespect!

"I didn't know I was going to be attacked! I've gone into those woods dozens of times and nothing like that has ever happened!" She defended herself. I wanted to growl at the implication of how many times she had put herself in danger. Did the girl have a death wish?

"Well, you won't be going back! I don't want to ever hear of you wondering around those woods by yourself again, is that clear?" I ordered her.

She looked at me in astonishment, her plump pink lips forming a perfect comical 0 in apparent outrage at my dictates.

"You can't..!" She began in a high pitched squeal, but I cut her off quickly.

"I can and I will! All I have to do is point you out to the castle's guards and none of them will ever let you leave the castle grounds again. So don't test me, because I _will_ do it. You could have died out there, and while you may be perfectly fine with letting such a thing occur, _I_ am not! Do you understand me?" I questioned rather arrogantly, not really needing her consent at all. It wasn't a bluff, if she forced the matter, I would make certain she was never permitted off the grounds alone again; whether it was my kingdom or not, I still had the power and the authority to do so.

She stared at me guardedly, as though assessing the seriousness of my promise. Finally concluding that I was being entirely serious, she let out a small sigh and bowed her head, her whole body sagging in defeat.

"Yes, Your Majesty." She murmured weakly.

And now I felt like an ass.

Several more moments went by as she continued on with her task of cleaning my wounds, even getting up once to replace the dirty water with a fresh batch. The silence was killing me. Despite how much I needed her to take my order seriously, I did not want her going away from this encounter thinking I was nothing but a jerk. I _was_ a jerk, but that was beside the point.

Looking at her carefully, I said, in a far gentler tone than I had used before, "You never did answer my question you know?"

She once again raised her eyes to mine, the confusion clear in her puckered forehead and pouty lips.

"What was so appealing about that book that you couldn't take your eyes away until it was to late?" I questioned, ready to take her up in arms if she once again claimed I wouldn't understand. I truly did want to know. I had never read more than was necessary, and didn't really understand the concept of reading for pleasure. Reading was, in my opinion, one of the most boring pastimes anyone could ever have, so I was intrigued at just what this interesting girl found so appealing.

For a long moment, she simply sat in silence, her hands hovering over the cloth in the bowl, her teeth teasing her bottom lip in a way that I now knew I immensely enjoyed watching, and I was almost convinced that she wasn't going to answer, when she finally responded.

"It's got everything I like; adventure, interesting characters, a happy ending. Everything." She told me without looking my way, a fond little smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah?" I questioned quietly, matching her small smile with one of my own. She raised her sparkling brown eyes to mine, and I saw a light in them that made them look more than merely brown. They looked like the richest chocolate with fiery bronze hearts twinkling around her wide pupils. They were truly stunning eyes, perhaps the best shade I had ever seen, and only helped enhance the girl's already tranquil beauty.

"Yeah, the author was anonymous, so I don't even know if it was written by a man or a woman, or even know their name, but really it only enhances the excitement of the story. It's got everything; far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!" She listed excitedly, a surprising smile lighting her face as she described the book with such conviction it made me want to grin in response.

That smile, the way her eyes twinkled, the way her whole face brightened as though she could visualise everything she was describing... I was starting to understand now. My friend really had snapped up a rare beauty. As different from other girls as she was, it seemed to me like a good different, a _good_ kind of odd, and I wasn't even feeling the burning envy in that moment because her smile seemed to make everything around us fade away. But then the moment was over, and the shadow crossed her face as she no doubt remembered that the book was lost, and now I felt surprisingly guilty for making so light of it.

I was about to show my remorse, when she let out a little sniff, then abruptly stood, picking up the bowl of water before moving to the back door and dumping the contents outside, returning to place the bowl back on the counter, along with the cloth. Finally turning to face me, she gestured to my arm.

"You'll need to visit the hospice in the castle to get the wound wrapped and dressed properly. I'm afraid I can't do much more in here. There aren't many medical supplies provided for these men, surprisingly." She said dryly, purposefully avoiding my gaze.

And just like that, I knew our conversation was over. Her stance had changed completely, and it was clear our intimate exchange had come to an end. She clearly did not want to be stuck in here with me another minute, and the thought made me deflate. I watched her slowly untie the cape from her neck and hand it out to me, still keeping herself a safe distance away. I took it from her, savouring the small brush of her fingers against my own, before throwing it over my shoulder and using it to cover my wound in case I ran into any nosy people when I returned to the castle.

"Do you know what the time is by any chance?" The girl asked, running her hands through her hair in a disheartened manner.

I shook my head silently. I did have a pocket watch I carried around with me most days, but had not expected to be in need of it today.

"Well, by the looks of things out there, if you hurry, you might still be able to catch dinner," she told me casually, and I nodded my head absently in understanding before my memory came back to me. Oh, right. Yeah.

"Belle." I addressed her, and her eyes widened in surprise, probably from my knowing her name. I really did not want to have to explain that one, so I considered myself lucky when all she did was raise her eyebrows at me inquisitively.

"You should probably take yourself to the kitchens when we return. Gaston requested that you be the one to serve him dinner tonight." I told her disinterestedly, still fiddling with my cape in an attempt to right it over my arm. I was therefore rendered completely at a loss when I looked back over to her to see her whole body tensed, her eyes bulged and she practically yelled, "What!"

I took a step back in surprise at such a dramatic reaction, before nodding my head. "At breakfast this morning, he requested..." I didn't get a chance to finish.

"Oh gods, now?!" The girl squealed, her hands shooting to her hair, clenching the perfect tendrils so tightly I could see her hands pale.

"Tonight, yes," I said, still astonished at her frantic nature. She looked horrified.

"Oh no! Oh no oh no oh no! What time is it? Am I late? Oh, gods! Did he say anything else? Anything specific? Any requests? Anything at all?"

My inner nature wanted to snarl at her that I was not some _messenger boy_ , but the frantic look in the girl's eyes curved the impulse. Thinking about it for a moment, I told her, "He requested that you wear his 'favourite' dress?" Whatever _that_ meant.

The girl leant her head back to the ceiling and let out a soft frustrated moan, and said so quietly that I barely heard her; "I really hate that thing."

Then she practically ran towards the door, turning back to my surprised face for only a moment.

"I have to go! Thank you, Your Majesty! I'm truly grateful for all your help!" She vowed hastily, before running out the door, out the barn and no doubt back towards the castle. Leaving the used bowl, the wet rag, the burning candle and me, wondering what the hell had just happened.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Freshly bandaged, and freshly clothed, I headed towards the royal dining area. With one hour to spare from the moment I stepped into the hospice, I saw the curious looks from the decrepit old nurse who had bandaged the small gashes for me. I could tell she wanted to ask what had happened, but I didn't indulge her. Strangely, I felt like I'd be betraying Belle if I said anything about the incident, so I just told her I had cleaned the wound myself and simply needed something to keep it from bleeding again.

I retreated to my room afterwards, choosing appropriate dining attire and making sure my hair was dirt and tangle free before heading out again. I was dressed in a white tunic and black overcoat with matching breeches and black shiny shoes. Somehow, knowing Belle would be there, made me want to look my best, even more so than usual.

Arriving at the dinner table, I was surprised to see Silas had joined us this evening, sitting at the head of the table as only the highest born in the house was allowed to. I was also somewhat relieved that the only seats available were opposite Gaston, knowing that Belle would most likely be taking her place behind him, and desperately wanting to see her, even though I had only just left her company a mere hour before.

"Well there you are, where have you been since breakfast? You just disappeared!" Gaston said loudly from further down the table. I straightened my coat discreetly over the scratch marks on my upper arm.

"I'm sorry, honey, did I miss our anniversary? Would you like me to get you some cheese to go with your whine?" I snarked back, earning me a snicker from Gaston and several other noblemen who also occupied the castle. The rest of them pulled faces or shifted; uncomfortable with such behaviour at the dinner table. But Gaston and I had never cared much for propriety.

"Boys." The king scolded warningly from down the table, and we did our best to squelch our laughter as the bell rang through the room, signalling that dinner was to be served. I tried to hide my own excitement as I watched the maids file out carrying the dishes for the first course. But my eyes almost bulged from their sockets when I spotted Belle at the end of the line, and more specifically, what she was wearing.

It was a maids outfit, that was for sure, but it did not look like the other women's uniforms. While all the other women servers wore a long white sleeved dress with a black skirt that reached down to their ankles, Belle was wearing a dress so short it was practically indecent. It stopped at her knees, the short black skirt adorned with a small white apron and white frills at the bottom. And at the top... wow. The top half barely covered her chest, and acquainted her breasts in a way that likely had most men at the table salivating in their seats. The whole thing was topped off by a matching frilly black and white collar around her neck, a black and white maids cap over her smoothed chestnut hair, and black tights that clung to her legs like her own skin. Her previous words from the barn came back to me; 'I really hate that thing.'

I could not imagine why. She looked ravishing.

My opinion was apparently not shared with many others at the table though. While Gaston was smirking at the sight of the girl, his icy blue eyes burning with a fire so intense I was surprised she was not a puddle on the floor, there were several gasps and mixed signals of disapproval from across the room. I even heard the wife of one of the kings councilmen whisper furiously at her husband, "do they not have standards for servant girls in this castle? She looks like a whore!"

I had to resist the urge to reach around her husband and strangle the scornful woman with her own scarf.

As predicted, Belle moved straight to Gaston's chair, and placed his meal before him before taking a step back, practically flattening herself against the wall. I could almost feel her embarrassment, but it was clear, from the use of Gaston's earlier words, that this was _not_ the first time something like this had happened.

I honestly didn't know if I should hate Gaston or kiss him in that moment. She may have hated the dress, but it made her look absolutely _delicious_.

As the table began their first course, the little disruption Belle had caused was soon forgotten. If Silas had made a big deal out of it, Belle would have most likely been asked to leave. But as it was, it appeared that the king was simply ignoring the girl, and the prince was most certainly not raising any complaints about the appearance of his personal server. Not even close.

As the three-course meal slowly progressed, the king's voice sounded from across the table. Though the chattering from the other guest did not cease, the volume subtly decreased as the king spoke.

"Adam," he began, grabbing my attention. I looked down the table at him, and he continued. "Gaston and I are travelling to the capital to be tailored for the Winter Solstice gala tomorrow morning. Would you care to join us?" He inquired, not bothering to raise his voice; no one would dare talk over the king.

I thought on that for a moment. Though I knew I would need a new outfit for the coming celebration, part of me absolutely hated travailing into the capital. While the city thrived and pulsed with energy, upper-end stores and sophisticated people, it was also far too close to my own castle for comfort, as the city was technically owned by my kingdom. It was only one of the reasons why, once I became a king, I would be the richest of all four kingdoms in the country. Even wealthier than the king sitting at the table with me.

My mother used to take me into the city when I was young, one of the few occasions she would spend any time with me at all. But it wasn't for the sake of being with her son, oh no, she just wanted to make sure I was dressed in the finest clothes for all our social gatherings so that I did not embarrass her in front of company and friends. I had always despised the fine clothing I had been forced into as a child, the layers upon layers and ruffles upon ruffles limiting my movement almost entirely. Of course, that had been her goal for the most part. 'Running around like an animal is for uneducated brats, Adam. You are of noble blood, and you will behave as such,' she would say.

I hadn't been back there since our kingdom last hosted the Spring Festival. All kingdoms in the country were responsible for hosting one specific event each year. Ours had been the Spring Festival, a ball celebrating the change of the seasons; other kingdoms hosted the Autumn Eve, the Summer Parade and, of course, the Winter Solstice. I had already missed the Autumn Eve, but as Silas was the one to host the Winter Solstice each year, I would be attending with little fuss.

For three years I had managed to avoid the place; now, I supposed was as good a time as any to swallow this rather unpleasant medicine.

"I would be honoured to join you, Your Majesty," I responded regally, and caught several of the high-born men looking at me enviously before turning their attention back to their plates. They could only wish to have such high standing in society. Most of these men had great wealth and power in the kingdom, but they were nothing to royal blood.

"Good, then I'll send a servant to wake you bright and early so we don't waste any daylight, and as we'll be so close to your castle anyway, we might as well stop on the way back to see how far along your castle's repairs are." He said casually, turning his attention to the dessert that was now being placed in front of us.

Back to my castle. In my kingdom. A place I had purposefully avoided for three whole years. Great. Just great.


	8. Home Sweet Hell

**Chapter Eight -** **Home Sweet Hell**

 **.**

I stifled a yawn behind my hand as the carriage road on towards the city, to my kingdom. My kingdom was the centre for retail exchange; sitting right on the coast, it was where the flow of food, fabrics, medicine and other material goods received from other countries went to be processed and shipped out to the various other kingdoms. Because of this, it was so named The Capital, and housed the largest array of shops and workers factories in the country.

Each four kingdoms had a speciality. The kingdom of Pierre was the home for all mining, from gemstones to coal, that kingdom owned rights to all lands excavation. Next was the kingdom of Blé, that farmed and cropped more food, and raised more animals than any other kingdom. What Blé did not sell to us rulers in other kingdoms, it sold overseas, and my kingdom, of course, took a small tax on everything they earned, since everything had to go through Fairalia to reach an alternate destination. Silas's kingdom - soon to be Gaston's - was the kingdom of Ingénieur, and housed the largest amount of machine-building factories in the whole country. Any machine that was not ordered and delivered piece by piece from another country into ours, was made in Silas's kingdom. He was a rich king, and did extremely well selling his machines overseas, which I, of course, also took a percentage of.

I had not been looking forward to returning home. I knew I'd have to face my castle sooner or later, but I had been rather hoping it would be later. Much much later. I had at least hoped my wing would be rebuilt by the time I returned here, but could think of no valid excuse to give to the king other than my own personal reluctance.

My house had been broken enough on the inside as it was, I had absolutely no wish to see it shattered from the out.

Beside me, Gaston yawned tiredly, much as I had done, since we had needed to be in the carriage by six in the morning to make it to my kingdom by early afternoon. Though, by the look of him, it would seem that Gaston had gotten even less sleep than I had. I wanted to ask him exactly _what_ had kept _him_ up at all hours, but I already had a feeling that I knew, and the image was _not_ something I wanted to entertain. Not at all.

Opposite us, the king sat, looking over papers and documents from his kingdom, while beside him, much to my surprise, sat Cogsworth, whom I was greatly amazed had left the castle at all, since I knew his preference to remain there and lord his authority as head of staff over the other servants. Not that he was in any way a cruel or vindictive man, he was simply... pompous. Yes, that was the right word. Gaston and I had despised him as children, for his love of rules, his obsession with everything happening according to his exact schedule, and his annoying persistence that everyone in the castle strive to make it run more efficiently; even us.

We had pranked him numerous times as children, setting up traps for him all over the castle, simply because we hated his unbelievably focused manner. Whenever he would supervise one of our mentoring lessons on our fathers insistence, and see us either goofing off or lagging behind in our studies, he would simply stand there with a disapproving look on his face, shaking his head and exclaiming that 'we should always aim for perfection and not simply 'good enough' young men.'

The pranking had gotten considerably worse after _that_ little snippet of advice.

But aside from being a complete stick in the mud, I supposed he did have his uses. His fixation with perfection had been put to good use by the king, and he oversaw most of Silas's agreements for buying and selling goods from and to other kingdoms. He made sure not a coin or an hour was wasted in these negotiations, and if another ruler tried to pull something slick over the king in one of their contracts – not that anyone had ever dared try – Cogsworth would spot an inconsistency immediately. Since we were going into the city, I assumed the king had some kind of business there, and would be in need of Cogsworth's aid.

When the noise outside the carriage walls grew increasingly louder, I knew we were starting to enter the city. The carriage had already been stopped and investigated by road marshals, as it was their job to guard the crossing that connected the kingdoms. Other kings did like to know if someone unexpected was going to show up, or else if someone suspicious had been turned away at the kingdoms boarder. One look at my face through the carriage window, and the road marshal had bowed and waved us on. Now we were riding through the smaller part of the city, but I knew where we were headed.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"Ow! Watch where you're sticking those pins, old man!" Gaston snarled at the seamster who was pinning up his tailored suit for the Winter Solstice ball. I snickered into the book I had been attempting to read, trying not to cry at how sincerely funny it was for Gaston to be tortured by an elderly man who was proclaimed the best tailor in the city. The clothing he produced, even when he used to fit us as children, were truly amazing. Sophisticated and stylish, he could make anyone look like a prince as long as they paid the right price, and he was celebrated for it. During the gruelling process of being fitted for the outfit, however, it was difficult to understand why.

I could practically _feel_ him glaring at me, but I didn't look up. I had already been tailored for my suit, and now all that was left to do was wait for it to be prepared and delivered to the castle. Gaston had cackled every time the old bat had jabbed me with a needle; I was simply enjoying some well-deserved revenge.

The garment-maker took a pin he had been keeping between his teeth and poked it, perhaps purposefully, right into the sleeve of the custom fabric, making Gaston jump once more.

"Stay still boy," the old man scolded, retrieving his measuring tape from a pretty assistant who was standing silently at his side. "The sooner you cease your squirming, the sooner we'll be finished. Now be still and be quiet." He ordered.

I was practically choking into my book, watching Gaston's face go red. I could almost see the steam producing from his ears, because, obviously, he was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner.

"How dare you old man, do you have any idea who you're talking to?!" Gaston snarled at him, though he still had not stepped down from the podium. The tailor looked completely unfazed with Gaston's threatening tone and proceeded to stretch out the measuring tape and hold it against Gaston's arm, which, despite his attitude, was still laid exactly as the tailor had ordered.

"Yes yes, I am well aware of who you _are_ young man, Just as I was aware when you were fifteen, and five years before that and five years before that." He told the prince disinterestedly, marking the loose sleeve of Gaston's coat with a little pen. "Your father knew to bring you to me for the finest garments, but by all means, feel free to seek assistance elsewhere if you think another could do a better job. I'm sure the women's seamstress down the road would be far gentler whilst making you a pretty dress." He mocked loftily.

I coughed loudly. It was either that, or make a fool of myself belching with laughter.

Despite how angry the old man's indifferent attitude was making Gaston, he did not take a step towards the door, nor did he remove himself from the platform he was standing, he simply settled for glaring at the man while allowing him to do what was needed. He, like I, knew that despite the tailor's unbearable demeanour, he did make the best clothing. And if Gaston wanted to go to the Winter Solstice ball looking better than everyone else, he would have to endure it just like everyone else.

Though, I had to admit, I was finding his attitude rather amusing today.

The man stepped back, admiring his work so far. Gaston was in a red tailcoat with silver trimmed lace, a grey waistcoat, and matching grey breeches trimmed with similar silver fabric. The clothing still looked frumpy and unflattering to Gaston's form, but by the time the tailor was finished with him, the outfit would be immaculate. I remembered thinking that I pitied any man who attempted to make clothing fit my friend's gigantic form, and in a way, I was correct in that conclusion. Gaston was taking twice as long to fit as I had done, but where I was slender and well muscled, Gaston was simply the size of a barge. An impossible task for anyone who was not the man standing before me, eyeing Gaston's garments thoughtfully.

"Hmm, I think the sleeves could use a little more hemming. Lillian, dear, could you fetch me the sewing kit and perhaps a few more buttons to match this waistcoat please?" He asked the young woman who had been assisting him all afternoon.

"Of course Monsieur Forte." The young woman replied respectfully and walked around the podium to the shelves to the left of the room.

We were sitting in an area whereupon every surface sat some form of fabric. It was a colourful layout, with shelves on every wall, and boxes in every corner, all housing different equipment for garment making. Gaston was standing on a platform in the centre of the room, admiring himself from the three big, wall length mirrors that were all connected and flared outward like the shape of an A. This had been Monsieur Forte's shop for as long as I could remember. Whenever a new annual ball was being held by one of the kingdoms, my mother would drag me down here to be fitted for a new outfit, since apparently it was 'frowned upon' to wear the same clothing twice to any elaborate function.

As boys, Gaston and I had often speculated as to the age of the ancient tailor, for he did look extremely old, with wrinkles crinkling every surface of his face and eyes that seemed completely sunk into his head, like that of a skull. But the odd thing was, despite his lack of youth, he looked exactly the same _now_ than when we were children. Not a single wrinkle on his face had changed, and though it was distasteful, I had half expected him to be dead by now. But no, with a face like a corpse, he was as spry as any young man, as well as intelligent and possessing a wit that I myself would have most likely killed him to possess. Perhaps he'd obtained some form of magic or sorcery to remain so unchanged over the years, or perchance held the secret to immortality. Whatever it was, the thin skeletal man in the long grey wig and full grey attire, took the box offered to him by the young assistant, and began taking measurements once more, whilst Lillian, on Forte's orders, knelt before Gaston and began knitting another red button to his grey waistcoat where Forte had instructed.

"So, young prince," Forte began: both Gaston and I looked up at him to see whom he was addressing. Gaston had been staring at the head of the attractive young woman who was kneeling before him, and it did not take a genius to figure out what he had been thinking judging by the leer marring his features. Once he realised where Forte's attention lie, he went right back to watching the girl on her knees. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"I have not seen you in many moons. Might I be so bold as to inquire why you chose to depart from your kingdom for so long, leaving it under the control of those rather questionable characters the former king employed?" He questioned smoothly, expertly threading some silver stitching through Gaston's rolled sleeve. I raised an eyebrow at him, setting the book aside.

"Why? Are they not performing their jobs correctly?" I asked him curiously. I had not given much thought to the council members proficiency to do their jobs. My father had trusted them as his council, and I saw no reason why I could not do the same.

Forte shrugged one shoulder elegantly, clipping off the final thread with a small knife.

"Matters of politics means little to me Your Grace, but I must admit that I have heard a fair bit of talk from the customers that come into my shop. As you are no doubt aware, I cater to the wealthy, but even wealthy men have complaints about their finances every now and then, and, from what I can tell, those council members have been altering a fair bit of your father's previous laws to benefit the size of their own pockets." He told me smoothly, giving me only the slightest bit of attention whilst doing so.

I sat somewhat rigid in my seat, not really knowing what to think about what was just shared. Altering? The council had been _altering_ the laws my father had placed before he died?

It was within their right to make laws that benefited the kingdom as a whole, but they would have needed to send off for my signature and approval before they could do anything drastic. But _altering_ laws? They could _change_ certain features of laws without even needing to contact me. As long as the change wasn't _too_ major, or affected too many people who were likely to raise up a fuss, it was of little concern to me. I had, after all, told them not to contact me unless it was a dire emergency. With less than a year before my coronation, my head of council, Monsieur D'Arque, had written to me insisting upon my return. I had absolutely no doubt in his capabilities to run the kingdom without me, for he was an extremely intelligent man, if a little unsavoury; and I refused to believe he would have been in such a hurry to call me back if he and the other council members were doing anything I wouldn't deem necessary.

Still, I supposed that now was a good a time as ever to pay them a visit. I almost groaned. Going to them would mean going _back_ to my castle, a place I was loath to visit at all. I knew the king expected me to do so, but I was convinced that I could placate him for a little while longer and could live a few more months without setting foot in that awful house that looked down upon the rest of the kingdom like a watchful master.

 _Don't be such a coward. You go in, talk to your council, ask about the repairs, and get out. You don't even_ _need_ _ _to visit the East Wing. Just get it over with.__

With a sigh, I stood from my seat in the corner of the room. Forte raised one of his delicate grey eyebrows at me, and I gestured to Gaston in response.

"How long do you think this is going to take?" I asked the man.

Forte looked back at Gaston, who had once again returned to admiring his appearance in the large mirrors, much to the apparent amusement of the assistant Lillian.

"Oh, I imagine I will need another hour on this yet. It seems that every time I see your friend here, he has grown another size or two, it makes keeping records of measurements completely impossible. He always requires quite a bit more work than my usual customers." The tailor told me dryly, looking Gaston over with apparent disdain.

"Yes, I imagine he would," I told Forte, causing Gaston to turn away from the mirror and glare at us some more.

"I am standing right _here_ you know?" He demanded, a scowl marring his otherwise handsome face.

"Indeed you are," Forte replied haughtily, sounding bored.

Stifling my laughter, I turned back to Gaston and told him, "I'm taking the carriage, and I'll be back in an hour. I need to see to my castles reparations." I told him, not mentioning the conversation I also planned to have with Monsieur D'Arque, not wanting anyone to think I was not in control of my own kingdom.

"Very well Your Grace, we will see you soon then," Forte told me, not even waiting for Gaston's reply. With a nod to all, I walked from the room. Just as I reached the front door, I heard the muffled baritone of Gaston ask petulantly, "How come he gets to be 'Your Grace', and all I get is 'young man'? Where's _my_ respect?"

Fortes superior voice travelled through the walls just as I was closing the door.

"Respect is given to those who _earn_ respect young man."

And I was in a better mood already.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

My castle was a daunting piece of architecture. Much like Silas's castle, it was grand, huge and sat on high land, so it was visible to practically everyone living in the kingdom for miles around, reminding everyone who was – figuratively and literally – at the top. But where Silas's family castle was light and naturally beautiful, my home had a rather... sinister quality.

It wasn't subtle, to put it simply, but apparently, my father's great great great grandfather had had rather a wicked sense of humour whilst having his castle erected. He had been described as an eccentric man, who enjoyed shocking people with rather unpleasant surprises throughout the castle land. Sat on the other side of a long thick wooden bridge, the castle was decorated with menacing looking gargoyles, incredibly ominous figurines of mythical creatures and high, unwelcoming structures both inside and out, that were purposefully designed to be difficult to navigate. Unless you had lived in the castle for many years, you were more than likely to get lost wondering around the hundred odd rooms, multiple darkly lit hallways and thousands upon thousands of stairs. As a child, I had spent many an hour wandering around, hiding from tutors, and entertaining myself when was needed. Which was often, I had to say.

My mother had hated the decor, her and my father both if I could recall, but while mother had always insisted on being allowed to renovate the palace to her liking, father had taken a more stoic approach. Knowing just how much it might have cost to rebuild such a monumental structure, father had simply put his foot down and told my mother that if she didn't like being in the castle, then she should simply avoid it as best she could. And that's exactly what she had done. Frequently.

Still, despite the obviously over-dramatic decoration, I had adored it as a boy, but soon the many empty hallways and cold, heartless high-ceilinged chambers had started to grate on me. I didn't like how there was hardly any noise around the place. I didn't like that the servants had been trained to be so invisible I never saw anyone wondering around whilst exploring the castle, and I didn't like the fact that, unless Silas brought Gaston with him to visit, I was mostly always alone. That was why I had preferred Gaston's castle over my own. I had never told him so, as exposing my envy for someone else's treasures would have made me look weak, but I had loved it. I loved the noise. How active the servants were and how much obvious love and devotion they put into maintaining the palace. I loved the bright colours and wonderful warm decorations that actually made me feel like I was in a home, rather than just a structure of cold stone. I loved the warmth and the people and the fact that when I was there, I was _not_ alone.

Of course, after my parents' death, I had set off on a three-year trip to prove to myself I could survive on my own. Alone.

Now I was back in that house though, I was afraid my defences were crumbling again. It sure was going to be difficult returning to this place once the repairs were completed, but I was trying hard not to think about it.

As the carriage road up the large bridge, I could see the flags of my home colours – blue and gold - whistling through the wind from atop their perches on each tower. The front of the castle looked immaculate, like there was absolutely nothing wrong, but as the letter had described, it was the back of the castle, the east wing, that had quite literally crumbled during the earthquake.

It actually gave me quite a rush of vindictive pleasure to know that I would get to do what my mother never could; renovate the castle.

As the carriage closed the distance towards my old home, I could see a congregation of people hovering at the entrance doors, and sighed. Of course, they had known I was coming, the patrol guards must have given them the heads up, or else Silas had written to them last night, informing them of my upcoming arrival.

Upon the return of any landowner after being away for as long as a month, every servant employed to the house was expected to be lined up outside waiting to welcome them home. But as my return was unannounced and I had no intention of staying, there was just my eight members of council, my head of house, and, of course, the head nurse, standing behind my grandmother, who sat bent over and spasming silently in her wheelchair.

She looked about as bad as I felt in that moment.

As a boy, I had been kept as far away from my grandmother as my parents could keep me. My mother's mother, I had never really known her, not least because I had always been barred from being in the same room with her, not that that was a difficult feat to manage anyway, since the sick old woman had been locked and hidden away from the world like a dirty little secret.

No one liked to admit that weakness was in their blood, and my mother had absolutely detested any kind of association with the feeble woman who had lost her mind years before I was even an idea.

The only reason she had been kept in my father's house, and not shipped off to an asylum, was because my mother had been terrified of anyone ever linking the sick old woman back to her. So she was shut-in here, being 'cared for' by the staff, and kept locked away from every other person in the world; including me.

It was only when I turned fourteen I had officially met the woman I had only ever heard whispers about. At fourteen, I was finally beginning to take my studies seriously, or at least, far more seriously than I _had_ been. I had begun paying more attention to the way my father ran things, and he, in turn, had begun paying more attention to me. I was permitted to ride with him when he went out to settle disputes between the rich. Taught how to hunt and fish and survive if ever I was separated from my servants or carriage while on the road. He made sure I knew how to use a gun, as well as a knife and a sword, so I could defend myself against bandits or even, perhaps, an assassin.

It was also the age I had begun taking an interest in women. I had had, for lack of a better word, _ _infatuations__ , with beautiful women since the age of eleven, but it wasn't until I turned fourteen that I had begun to act on the impulses.

Three months after my fourteenth name day, there had been a family visiting the castle. A noble family from another country, and with them was their sixteen-year-old daughter by the name of Marie. She had been beautiful. Long exotic black hair that was always teased into an intricate braid, light green eyes that had reminded me of the shiniest emeralds, a tiny waist, flaring hips, big bust and bronze coloured skin. Basically, everything I knew I wanted the moments I saw her.

I had suspected, that while my parents claimed the overseas family were there for trading purposes, they had agreed to the visit in the hopes of securing a marriage contract between the two of us. And it very well may have come to fruition had it not been for how things had ended between our two families.

I had found her a most peculiar girl at first. Being who I was, it was never difficult to capture a girls attention. Most swooned all over me at parties and social gatherings, and the second I laid eyes on the stunning girl, I was determined that she would be no different.

I had been confused beyond words, therefore, when the girl seemed to do everything in her power to avoid me during her family's stay.

I would often catch her in the castle's gardens sketching or painting, or else simply sitting with her ladies maids and talking, but every time I had approached her, she had made some excuse to leave.

The idea that she didn't want anything to do with me had been a ridiculous notion, and I was convinced that she was simply giving chase. Running from me to make herself more elusive and desirable, and I had found the idea of a game intriguing.

Weeks of trying to capture her attention, and consequential failures, however, had frustrated me to the point of cornering her in an empty hallway as she had been returning to her guest quarters. It was there in that hallway I demanded to know what kind of game she was playing, and why she wasn't the one running and chasing after me. I had been so accustomed to getting everything that I wanted, the idea of me not possessing this raven-haired beauty infuriated me. I could blame it on my inexperienced youth, I supposed, but spurned by the belief that she had to want me, but simply didn't know how to express her feelings, had incited me to capture her lips under mine. Without her consent.

I had never been laid low by a girl before, but Marie had obviously, miraculously, learned what to do if ever she were propositioned by an unworthy male. While I was writhing on the floor in pain, I had listened to her screeching, asking me just who in the hell I thought I was, and if I truly believed all girls were nothing more than simply toys, and if I could just pry my head out of my own ass for one moment I might see that she wanted nothing at all to do with someone as arrogant and pompous as me.

After she had fled, it had taken me many minutes to gather the strength to limp to my bedchamber, and once there, I contemplated what in the worlds had just occurred. Never had a girl spoke to me so forcefully before. Never had anyone ever dared assault me or call me names. I knew if I reported her, I'd be a laughingstock; a prince who could not defend himself against a mere girl. I'd never live it down, so I kept my mouth shut, but for the next few days, all I kept thinking was: is that really how she saw me?

Was I really pompous and arrogant in her eyes? I supposed I had practically assaulted her in a hallway, but I had initiated many kisses with girls like that in the past and they had all responded quite feverishly.

Why would this green-eyed beauty be so different?

Then it occurred to me, perhaps she _was_ different.

The start of my infatuation with the girl had come from my determination to figure her out. I had watched her discreetly for days, and the more I saw, the more I liked. The girl just seemed so... sweet.

All the girls I often found in my company were brats. Spoiled and selfish, their behaviour had been easy to imitate to keep them amused. Gaston and I were exactly the same way. Unless it was a person of high blood, we showed no mercy. It never occurred to me there might be another way. A _better_ way to behave.

Marie was nice to everyone. She treated her ladies maids like friends, not servants. She was always polite and respectful, even to me, though she did her best to avoid me after the hallway incident.

Her demeanour was so confusingly enticing it made me want to be around her all the more, and so I was resolved that for the first time in my life I was going to have to do something I had never done, to anyone.

I was going to have to apologise.

Cornering her long enough to force the words out had been the easy part, actually saying 'I'm sorry' with any kind of sincerity was something that literally spun my head.

But the way her eyes had widened, the way her mouth had dropped, the way her lips had pouted, it would appear it that moment she was just as confused as I had been.

I had been about to turn away from her then, for it was incredibly humiliating to have finally humbled myself to anyone only to be gawked at like some strange undiscovered specimen. I had just been about to turn away, when her quiet, 'I forgive you,' spilt from her lips.

With those three simple words, I believed myself in love with her.

In the next coming weeks, Marie and I were inseparable. Her compassionate giving nature was somewhat addictive for someone like me, and it never occurred to me that I was moving too fast with her, I simply wished to keep her at my side for as long as I was able.

The night we had shared our first real kiss had been bliss. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The way her gentle, dark lips had caressed mine, the sweet, loving words that she whispered into my ear; I was used to sloppy, unbridled passion, but this had been so much more.

I had been impulsive, that night. I had never stopped to think about the consequences of my actions. But as I whispered the first words of love I had ever confessed to anyone, she gazed up at me adoringly and begged me to show her how much I loved her.

That night had been all fireworks. It was my first time taking a girl, and it had been clumsy and messy - and painful, for her - but it had been _our_ night. The first night of many, I had believed. My head had been so full of her, it was completely unreal. I had found the experience so pleasing, when she had started crying, I had panicked, completely unsure what to do. When I pulled her into my arms and asked her what was wrong, she beamed up at me with her wet emerald eyes and spoke.

She had confessed to me that she _hated_ her family. That no one in her family ever really cared about her and that all she had ever done in her life was what her parents had expected of her. Neither her mother or father spent any time with her, and she was educated to assume the mask of a pretty, stupid girl who didn't need to think or feel, only sit there and look beautiful so she would be appealing to future prospective husbands.

Her words had touched me, for I had never had any form of a relationship with my parents, also being foisted off on tutors who only cared about teaching me how to be a good king, but never _really_ caring about me. She had made me feel... less alone. I had comforted her, and held her as she cried, and listened when she told me she just wished she were a _normal_ girl, living a _normal_ life, and how much she wished someone would come and _rescue_ her from it all. I had, perhaps, fallen a little too willingly pray to the girls' words, but I had believed them to be spoken in honesty, particularly since they were spoken right after the unforgettable act we had just performed together.

About a week went by, and we had kept up a pretence of being good friends, but every night we had met in secret, and I had grown more and more fond of the girl, until I eventually convinced myself I loved her. I had actually convinced myself that my love for her had changed my personality for the better. I told her everything about me, and she herself. We had seemed so much alike it was almost too good to be true... until it was.

One night, she came to me, just like every other, but _that_ night had been different. She didn't come wanting me to _make love_ to her, she had come with questions about the West Wing. The West Wing was a part of my castle that had been shut off for as long as I could remember. No one was allowed up there, least of all me. In all my years I had never seen a person go in or out of the doors that cut off the wing from the rest of the castle, and the door had always been kept locked. I had asked my parents about it all the time when I was young, but their replies had been vague, telling me that I was too young to understand, and that I should not go poking around in things that did not concern me. The look on my mothers face when she used to deliver such a reply always made me feel...uneasy. It had been fear.

Marie had told me she wanted to see what was through the doors, and by then, I believed myself so head over heels for the girl I could not have refused her anything. The irregularity of her request had never even surfaced in my mind, so full of her it was. When I told her the doors were kept locked, she had been so disappointed that I couldn't help but mention the master key that opened all doors in the castle, and which I knew was kept in the desk of my father's private office. Her dim green eyes had lit with excitement and mischief as we had broken into my own father's workplace, stolen the key from his desk and travelled to the West Wing when everyone else was asleep.

The corridor had been eerie, to say the least. The windows bolted shut and no candles burning in the halls, but it had been far too well kept to have been abandoned all these years like I had always assumed. We had snuck down the ghostly hall hand in hand, each of us shaking in fear and excitement. There was only one door at the end of the hall, which I found to be quite peculiar. There were many rooms in the East Wing, as well as the North and South, but here there was only one. I could still remember the pounding of my own heart as I slipped that key into that lock. When I opened it...

I could still remember the sound of the girl's screams.

Marie had shrieked as though she had seen a monster, and in a way, she had.

In the centre of a dusty, minuscule room, empty of all furniture but for a bed, and a small metal bath tub, there sat an old, decrepit woman in a wheelchair, shaking violently as two men dressed in doctors robes attempted to restrain her. Her skin was shrivelled and gangly, her legs revealed from under a nightdress twisted at odd angles as they kicked and knocked harshly against the wooden legs of the seat. Her arms were flailing around, though the two doctors were attempting to restrain them, and her head was lolling from side to side as though she had no bones in her neck to keep the thing atop her shoulders. She was practically foaming at the mouth, her eyes rolling back into her skull. I had been frozen in place, but I had stood there just long enough to watch the woman's eyes twitch in her skull, before returning to their normal state and revealing the true colour of her iris.

Blue eyes. _My_ eyes. My _mother's_ eyes.

Marie had run screaming from the room, and ignoring the doctors yelling at me to stay, I chased after her. I had caught her halfway down the main staircase that led to the front door. Where she had planned on running too, I had no idea, but I got the feeling that not even she knew, she simply wanted to get _away_. When I had caught her wrist, she had turned on me, screaming, 'who is she, Adam? Who _is_ she?!'

But I couldn't answer. I was at a complete loss.

I had always been told that I _had_ no grandparents, that they had all died before I was even born and that because my mother's sister had also unfortunately passed before my time, my mother and father were my only family. But those eyes had been unmistakable, and I was both furious, and terrified of the truth of that crippled woman who had apparently been locked away for so long.

I was so stuck in my haze, it never occurred to me to cease Marie's screaming, and soon she had woken the entire occupancy of the castle, and when both my parents and hers had bounded into the main foyer, Marie had practically thrown herself into her father's arms, weeping and sobbing and telling him our family kept a 'witch' in the West Wing.

The panic reflected in my mother's face I would always remember. Her secret had been revealed, and I could tell from the haunted look that came over her eyes, just how hard she had tried to keep that woman concealed. When her eyes had turned on me - from where I stood frozen halfway down the steps – and then down to my hand, which conveniently still loosely grasped the master key, her face had turned to rage. She _glared_ at me with a ferocity that would have brought me to my knees if I hadn't been so furious with _her_. No, I hadn't crumbled. For the first time in my life, I had met her glare with one of my own, putting all of my anger, hatred and accusation into that one look that I could tell had surprised her.

The family had left later that same night, after my father had paid them a hefty sum to keep our families _shameful_ secret quiet. I had caught Marie in her room right before she was about to jump in her carriage and ride away from my life. I had begged her not to leave, all but getting down on my knees and beseeching her. But she had only looked at me with so much angry sadness and told me that, while she truly did love me, my family were freaks, and she could not bring herself to stay in this house with me for one more moment.

She had fled before I had a chance to stop her, and after a moment's hesitation, I had torn through the castle after her, just in time to watch her carriage propel down the bridge, and away from me. And I had simply stood there, stunned, watching the first girl I thought I had loved, ride away from me forever. Or, what I _thought_ was forever anyway.

I had cried over the girl for months afterwards. Following the whole affair, my mother refused to even acknowledge my presence, only forcing herself to speak to me at social functions and dinner parties, keeping up the facade of the perfect rich family. It didn't matter to me, because honestly what little I had cared about the woman had evaporated completely once I had learned that the old lady was indeed my grandmother, and that I had been kept from her all my life. All because mother had not wanted the social stigma that came from having people with mental illnesses in the family.

It wasn't until nearly a year later that word had reached my father about Marie and her family once more. He had kept an eye on them, just in case any of them gave into the urge to break our contract and wag their tongues over what they knew. He had even sent in an employ of his to act as a spy for him, keep watch over the family. One day, he had been contacted by the man, who had reported hearing the group plotting to 'target' another rich family because 'the money was running out again'.

After that, all their former treachery had been revealed. The spy discovered that the family had actually heard rumours about my grandmother years before their visit and had led Marie into the house to manipulate me into letting her see what was hidden in the West Wing. It had all been an act, a ploy to strong-arm us into giving their family money, as their own fortune had been carelessly squandered, and they were approaching bankruptcy.

My mother had the most smug expression on her face as my father delivered the blow to me. I hadn't screamed, hadn't cried, and hadn't begged him to tell me it wasn't true, I had simply walked from his office and retreated to my rooms in silence.

She had never loved me, as she had claimed. She had even used her body to manipulate me like a whore would use a fool. And I _had_ been a fool. I had always told myself _never_ to trust, _never_ to care, _never_ to _love_ , because it will all get snatched away in the end. And what had I done? I had let her use me, let her jerk me around like a dog on a leash. That _whore_ had made me feel so fucking insignificant that I had never attached myself to another woman emotionally again. The coldness that had spread had me vowing that I would never be made a victim again. She had begun the cycle of using and dumping women before they had a chance to dump me first. She had even inspired my rule about always leaving the girl's bed before dawn, and never taking them to my bed, because I couldn't stand the look of the thing once I had learned of Marie's betrayal.

I had met her again sometime later, during my years travelling the world, but _that_ was another story.

When the carriage horses were finally pulled to a stop, I braced myself for the welcoming congregation. Before I had left I had made it a firm condition that I did not want my grandmother locked up anymore. I ordered that she be moved from the shut up West Wing and placed in more comfortable quarters. A room with light and windows and real furnishing. I also ordered that she be taken outside at least once every day to get some fresh air. It did not matter to me if she apparently couldn't tell the difference between her surroundings, everyone deserved to experience the outside, and her continued well-being was really the only subject of interest in the letters I had received while abroad.

But, seeing her again, quietly quaking in her metal seat as every other person smiled brightly back at me, made whatever tiny mass of confidence I had accumulated, evaporate.

I had failed her, I realised, and was just as guilty as my parents had been for neglecting her and ignoring her while I had gallivanted about the world, attempting to drown my pain in alcohol and women. But I couldn't help it, every time I looked at her I was reminded of the treachery of my mother, and the downfall of the man I had once idolised. And, I had to admit, part of me was repulsed by the woman's haggard appearance, not because of the way she looked, but because I knew how much pain she must have been in, and I also knew that despite all my wealth and influence, I could never make life better for her. But she was the only family I had left, and I would care for her, no matter what a toll it took on me to see her this way.

Stepping out of the carriage and telling the driver to wait for my return, I turned to masterfully greet the line of councilmen who bowed to me and offered their words of joy at my return. I took their words regally, never letting them see the emotional wreck that surfaced in the presence of this castle.

The last to greet me, as was tradition, was the most powerful man in the line, who happened to be my head of council, Monsieur D'Arque.

Like Forte, Monsieur D'Arque was an elderly gentleman, though he did not wear his age as well as Forte did. Balding and green-skinned, he had always left me with a distinctly unpleasant feeling, reminding me mostly of a classic villain from a children's book. His muddy tinged skin, wrinkled angular face, hairless scalp, unmanaged overgrown white eyebrows and sparse crooked teeth did not leave anyone with the notion that he was a _trustworthy_ man upon sight. But the one thing I knew my father had not been, was a fool. He had trusted Monsieur D'Arque, a least enough to put him in charge of his council. The council's sole purpose was to advise the king, as well as handle less significant matters of kingdom affairs that the king could not, or would not be troubled with. In my case, with both my parents dead and gone, the council took over as the leaders of the kingdom until such a time as I came of age, and though my father and I did not spend much 'bonding time' together, I very much doubted he would have left his one and only heir to rely upon an untrustworthy man who might set out to ruin everything he had worked his whole life to maintain.

Technically, I could have legally dispersed the council at any time I wished and took the throne early, an option only open to me because my father was dead, and there was no other male with royal blood available to upsurge my claim. I could have taken power early, could have been king from the moment my parents funeral had ended, but I hadn't, for the simple reason that I just did not want to. I didn't want to be stuck in that house, in that castle, a place that would have no doubt felt even more empty and lonely, after my parents' death. I had always wanted to leave, so upon their demise, I seized my opportunity. Three years away had been good for me, allowed me to see the world and escape being suffocated by all that vast open space and many empty rooms.

But what had the council been up to when I was away? T _his_ was something I had no choice but to involve myself in, though, I secretly wished it was not my responsibility.

"Your Majesty," he greeted me with a humble bow, his voice sending shivers up my spine as it always had done. It sounded far too smooth, his low baritone making everything out of his mouth sound like he was indulging in his own private joke at your expense. While he did not openly present himself as a man who believed himself the smartest man in the room, his self-superiority had always seemed to sliver from every word he spoke, every look about his face, and every mannerism he had. I had avoided him as a child, and though I was no doubt an active troublemaker, I had not dared ever make him the victim of one of my jokes, for fear of the consequences.

"We are so thrilled you could make it this day. Would you care for a light afternoon tea before we assess more important matters?" He inquired silkily. Not wanting him to know how unsettled the man made me, I merely gave a nod of my head and followed him through to the den, completely avoiding contact with my poor haggard grandmother, not that she could have truly seen me anyway. She had seen nothing at all for so many many years.

The den, much like the rest of the castle, was not particularly cosy, but it was perhaps the most welcoming of all others in the castle. Specifically designed to entertain a large group of people, its vast ceiling and heavily curtained windows made the room completely unappealing to me. This was where men and women would move to after a fine meal, to enjoy a nice glass of wine and a friendly chat before retiring for the evening; but to me, it was just another lifeless room in a lifeless house. Its only purpose was to show off the families wealth, not to invite guests.

I took my seat by the unlit fireplace, eager to finish this conversation as quickly as possible. The desire to fidget in place was all consuming, but I forced myself to remain still. _Show no weakness._ If Forte's casual words had been accurate, I did need to exchange words with my council, and then I could be safely on the other side of the bridge before the fireplace was lit.

Each of my councilmen filed in after me, sitting quietly throughout the room in chairs and couches as the servants came to silently hand each man a hot beverage on a fancy china plate. Before anyone could take their first sip, I spoke.

"So, am I to understand that there have been certain changes to the laws my ancestors wrote for this kingdom while I was away?" I asked the room.

All of the men, but one, suddenly stiffened in their seats. One so suddenly he spilt a small amount of tea on his breeches, the hot concoction clearly burning, but the man did nothing to draw further attention to himself. D'Arque, who was sitting in the red plush armchair opposite me, raised one overgrown white eyebrow a fraction. I was certain they all believed I had sprung the question on them in an effort to catch them off guard, when, in reality, it was simply due to my desire to finish this conversation as quickly as possible and get the hell out of here. But I was not about to let them know that; their unpoised reactions only served as proof of their guilt, now it was time to see just how _guilty_ they really were.

D'Arque spoke first. "I assure you, Your Grace, the... alterations... that have been made to so few of your kingdom's laws, only serve to further benefit the kingdom, and, by extension, yourself." His sleek voice defended.

"Really? How so?" I asked the man, barely giving a glance to the others scattered about the room. It was clear whom my opponent in this battle of wits was to be this day.

D'Arque's reply was quick and without waver.

"The damage your castle sustained during your absence was a rather ample one, Your Grace. All occupants of the castle living in that wing had to be evacuated and the halls closed off. It is taking quite a lot of time, resources, men and coinage to rebuild the East Wing. On my word, Your Majesty, my fellow council members and I are attempting everything we can to speed up the process for your anticipated return, but rebuilding a fortress of this magnitude does not come cheaply. The small tax increase we placed on your subjects was only to ensure that you were not rendered completely out of pocket in case of a need for emergency funding, and also to ensure that the castle was maintained as well as possible until your return." He explained.

He was good, I would give him that. His intellect and untrustworthy demeanour went hand in hand to make anyone engaging him feel outwitted and intellectually inferior. But I was not done fighting. Utilising every bit of training my father and scholars had given me, I did not shift from my regal posture, merely stared the man down as I brought the cup to my lips and lightly sipped.

"I see." I began, placing the tea and plate upon a servants tray that materialised out of nowhere.

"Then am I to understand that this small tax increase has also been taken out of your own salaries as well?" I inquired demurely, fighting to keep the smug smirk off my face when Monsieur D'Arque exposed his first sign of weakness. It was only a twitch. An uncontrollable spasm in the corner of his mouth, momentarily revealing teeth as crooked as his intentions. That, I was certain.

My father's old words rang out through my head, 'people will try to take advantage of you son, never doubt it. There are many in this world who would kill you to have what you have, but they may very well take a more simple approach. Whether your opponent is standing opposite you in a dual or sitting across from you in a room, the rules are still the same. Don't back down, don't break eye contact and don't for a second let them see any doubt in you. Your enemies will bring you to your knees without a second thought if you let them; in order to beat them, you need to be just as ruthless.'

Now I may not have listened to much advice my father had so rarely bestowed upon me, but that, I had most certainly heard.

It only took a moment to relive all this in my mind, and by the time I refocused on the room, D'Arque had composed himself. What the other council members were doing I could care less about now. My eyes were only on him; my opponent.

"Young Master," He began, automatically demoting my honorific as though to highlight my youth, and therefore my ignorance, "I did not see the logic behind taxing ourselves in order to fix our own home. The servants living in this castle were also not taxed, as they also serve under the same roof that requires reparations. My tax increase was mere pennies, and no peasant has yet to raise a voice of protest. As soon as the castle reparations are complete, the tax increase will be demolished, and each peasant will receive compensation for the extra money they have been paying to the crown. This will be put into effect the moment our home is rebuilt and once again fully liveable."

The Head of Council said, smiling submissively.

I stumbled for a moment there. His explanation, it sounded so... reasonable. So... sensible. I had been certain the man had been attempting to cheat my crown, or, at the very least, cheat the occupants of my kingdom, neither of which I would have allowed. But... it _did_ make sense. If, heaven forbid, another earthquake struck the land, and the whole castle crumbled to the ground, the amount of money it would have taken to create a new home worthy of royalty, as well as a home that housed every man, woman and servant who had served here for generations... it would have been far too much. I wouldn't have been able to simply throw my entire box of wealth at the problem. Most of the money came in assets that would need to be either sold or liquidated in order to provide coinage for everything from building supplies to the workers. And what if, by sheer bad luck, my kingdom was perhaps invaded or attacked during my time of weakness. How would I fund an army with no money? How would I feed and care for the occupants of the house with no house? The extra tax made more and more sense the more I thought on the matter, and if D'Arque truly intended to compensate the people... I failed to see how much harm taking a little extra from them _now_ would do. The people supported the crown, and I supported the people in return; that was how it worked.

Absently, I could see the small, victorious smirk fighting over D'Arque lips at my acceptance of his explanation. I now understood my father's motivations for employing this man to such a high level of power. He was extremely competent, and he did not seem so intimidating to me now as he had when I was a lad. Perhaps it was because, now, I could actually engage him in battle, rather than cower like a child. Though this was a battle I had to admit... he had won.

"The East Wing," I said suddenly, attempting to draw the attention away from my deflated pride.

"What of it Your Grace?" Monsieur D'Arque replied, his overtly cordial and polite attitude returning now that he knew he had conquered me.

"I would like to see it," I told the man, before getting up and leaving the room, and my pride apparently, behind.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

The East Wing was a mess. Moving beyond the heavy door that appeared to have been removed from the West Wing and replaced here, I stepped into a cold and broken remains of a hallway I had walked thousands of times as a child. The broken, crippled appearance of the once impenetrable stone making me quiver, and not from the cold.

I looked up only to be greeted by the depressing grey sky, only partially obscured by half the ceilings that had survived, the high wooden beams and shattered rafters now serving as an impromptu house for a flock of penguins.

A cold gust of wind blew past me sharply, and I pulled my coat tighter around me as I kicked a piece of rubble to the side and continued down the 'hallway.'

My bedroom did not exist anymore, most of the rooms had literally collapsed in upon themselves when the earthquake hit. It made me wonder how much weaker the castle must have been for the East Wing to suffer so much damage, when the rest of the castle stood firmly. Or, perhaps, the earthquake had just appeared under this part of the castle, shattering it from top to bottom, though, as I said, little damage had been done elsewhere. I knew nothing of earthquakes or what caused them to pass, but wasn't it ironic that the only place I had ever found any solace in this dreadful house, now lay before me, shattered and broken.

Other people had shared the East Wing with me, and therefore had also lost their homes, but I cared little for them at that moment. My only sanctuary. My only comfort in this uncomfortable, silent, sinister place I had to call 'home' for so many years... was gone. The sudden painful stinging of my eyes was my only indication to this unexplainable sorrow.

No one was around, no one was watching, it would have been so easy to simply shed a few tears for the only place I had ever had to call home.

But I fought them back. No! A prince did _not_ show weakness, a prince did _not_ show fear!

I pinched my eyes together harshly, running a hand roughly down my face. I refused to cry.

This had been a room, nothing more, and soon it would be a room once more, and then I could return. Back to my kingdom, back to my throne, and back to my people. Really, what had I been so afraid of in returning here? How _different_ it was to Gaston's boisterous and colourful castle? No. This castle was grand and a true work of art, had been home to hundreds of years of rulers, my ancestors. And as soon as I took the throne, I'd be making more money and possessing more power than Gaston could only dream of, even in his own _wealthy_ kingdom.

I was getting soft, and I could not afford to do so. I could not keep thinking of Gaston and Silas's castle as my 'home' because it wasn't. It was _their_ home and I was simply a border, a _temporary_ border who would soon be packing his bags and vacating the premises. To return _here_. The place of my birth and birthright. All that quibbling about my responsibilities was going to stop.

The quiet of the house would be good; better for working. The empty spaces convenient for the celebrations of the rich and high elite. There would be no running children, no loud servants and certainly no brown-haired beauties, stealing my focus and forcing me to feel like returning here, _alone,_ was the _last_ thing I wanted.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I was walking down the steps into the main foyer, after practically flying from the broken remains of my childhood, locking the door behind it, for what was hopefully, for good. I wasn't a child anymore. In eight months I would be a king, and I had spent enough time away giving myself over to overindulging and immature behaviour. Now that was going to have to stop. I could not keep ignoring my duties. I had a destiny as a great man and I refused to be remembered as a weak and worthless king.

The emotions surging through me were suffocating and uncomfortable, and I found myself hastening towards the room I had left my council members, eager to leave this place and continue my last year of freedom before I would be chained to it. As I approached the den, I was distracted by somewhat hushed voices coming from within. I believed I wouldn't have heard them at all if it wasn't a traditional rule of the castle's occupants to be as silent as the dead.

"... the paperwork drawn up and make sure all the right signatures are on it. I do not want Adam believing we have been deceiving him on this matter. I want absolutely no mistakes on this. Make sure it's perfect."

My ears perked up at the mention of my name and I quietly crept closer to the door, straining my ears to hear more of what, I would guess, my councilmen had been discussing since I had left them.

"I will make sure it is done, but might I ask, why did you tell the prince you were planning to compensate the peasants in the first place?" A second voice, one I did faintly recall as my council member, Monsieur Vermount, practically whined from the other side of the door.

"Because it was the best way to placate him about how necessary the extra taxing during his absence was. Don't worry, I'll make sure the peasants only receive the barest fraction of the increased amount they have been paying, and I can also ensure the rebuilding of the East Wing takes twice as long as it otherwise would. We may be forced to return power to the boy once his twenty-first name day is upon us, but I have absolutely no intention of suffering because of that child's complete inability to rule. We will maintain our positions of power, and If he manages to run this kingdom into the ground, we will at least be able to leave with a sizeable fortune in our pockets, while those foolish peasants blindly crumble with him."


	9. The Confrontation

**Chapter Nine** **-** **The Confrontation**

 **.**

"Hey, how did the meeting go?" Gaston asked me as I almost ran into him from outside Forte's tailor shop, having fled my castle right after overhearing the conversation between the two conniving councilmen.

It had been a duel alright, and I had lost, and while I was loath to simply run back to Gaston's castle and leave my kingdom under the mercy of this obviously wretched, untrustworthy man, I really needed some time to think over all of this. From what little I had heard, I suspected that D'Arque and the rest of my council had been taking quite a bit more from the citizens of the kingdom than I had originally anticipated. Not only that, but from their words, I could deduce that they must have been skimming from the extra tax pool as well, and as for that 'recompensate the peasants' bullshit D'Arque had spewed; well, that had clearly been an improvised on the spot lie.

He had lied to me, and I had eaten it up, all because of my doubt that I could not run this kingdom correctly. I had been neglecting my responsibilities for years. Running from my problems and hiding from my past, and it would appear that people had indeed taken notice. D'Arque clearly didn't think me capable, a sentiment which seemed to have gone undisputed in the room full of men I had trusted in control of my kingdom.

Well, I was going to prove them wrong! How dare they assume I wasn't good enough to govern my own kingdom?! Young and inexperienced I may have been, but I knew a hell of a lot more then they seemed to think! My father had taught me well with the years I had actually been willing to learn, and though I had tried everything to forget everything about him - as well as my mother, on my path of self-destruction - I still knew more than they seemed to believe. Like knowing what that man had just done was classified as treason!

D'Arque obviously believed himself so untouchable that he thought he could lie to a king and get away with it! Traitors had been _executed_ for less! And all my other councilmen had sat there in silence and listened to him deceive me, no doubt out of greed, just to keep the additional fortunes they had stolen from the peasants all to themselves.

In a moment of pure malicious anger, I actually thought to indulge my ancestor's methods of dealing with traitors, imagining how satisfying it would be to see such a highly refined, polished man being dragged through the square by a running horse. But the further I got from my castle, the more sense seemed to seep in. I could not go about something so drastic without first proving my case against him. Without proving that he and all the others were making such an unlawful profit at the peoples' expense, such a horrific execution would make me look like a tyrannical, mad king. I didn't really care what the peasants thought about me, but I knew I needed the people to trust me as their ruler for the kingdom to run smoothly, and trust that I would treat them better than the men who had been stealing from them. They had robbed that money, and all I needed now was to find a way to prove it. Something I'd never be able to do if I was here, with them watching over my every single move.

"It was fine." I lied, looking up at my friend and faking a smirk as I watched him run both hands over his hair, making sure not a single strand was out of place. "How was your fitting?" I asked in an attempt to distract him.

Gaston let out a noise between a growl and a groan. "That old man sure likes his needles. What a grouch. I'd say he needs to get laid but... who would want to touch something that old." Gaston actually shivered as the words left his mouth.

An unexpected chuckle tore out of my mouth at his words. It was typical, no matter what was going on inside my head, my old friend could always find a way to cheer me up, even if he didn't know anything was wrong.

"I don't know," I shrugged absently. "He and his assistant seemed awfully polite. Maybe there's something going on there." I teased.

Gaston looked horrified at the thought for a moment, before his face relaxed into a similar smirk.

"Oh, now _she_ can poke me anytime she likes. I wouldn't have minded spending a few hours alone in that shop with _her_. Such a pretty girl," he chuckled.

I looked at him slyly. "Prettier than your mermaid?" I asked, with no apparent explanation as to why. Perhaps I was just a glutton for punishment. Gaston let out another groan, only this one sounded a little... different. I could tell what kind of frustrated he was from _that_ groan.

"Not even close." He moaned, sounding almost regretful of that fact. I could mirror that sentiment perfectly.

After spending another hour or so looking around the city, a messenger came to find us delivering word from the king, telling us to take the carriage to the bank, where the king, as well as his small amass of guards and Cogsworth, were waiting. The guards followed our carriage for another gruelling five-hour journey back to Ingénieur.

It was almost time for dinner when we finally returned to the palace. The king had questioned me about my castle, as well as my meeting with my councilmen, and just like with his son, I lied and told him everything went well. I would have confided in him - for surely he would know how to handle such a situation - but my reluctance stemmed from admitting to the fact that I had been shirking my responsibilities for so long. Gaston was still required to take lessons on kingmanship and how to effectively run and control his kingdom – a fact I knew my friend simply hated – but I had not attended any lessons in over four years. I knew he suspected my slacking, but also assumed I was more involved with my kingdom then I actually had been. I was still receiving letters from my council, and only I knew how high and untouched that pile of mail really was.

Dinner was a simple affair. I didn't see Belle among the servers again, and I was grateful for it. I had to stop focusing on a random servant and start paying more attention to my duties as a future king. I could not afford to let another woman warp my brain as I had once done. They simply were not worth the trouble.

The next morning, I resolved to sit down at my desk and begin in on the large, dusty pile of letters I had received, not only since my arrival, but also for the entire three years I was away. I had only worked through the first irrelevant dozen, however, before declaring I was in dire need of a break. I thought over everything I could do to distract myself before returning to my responsibilities, and knew it would need to be something overtly physical. I needed to burn all this restless energy out of me before I could finally bring myself to sit still for hours and thoroughly analyse everything my councilmen had sent me.

I dismissed the thought of horse riding, as I was reluctant to see the young Lumière, or be reminded of Belle. And I did not want to go through the woods, for exactly the same reason. I was sure Gaston had some lessons today, so spending time with him was also out of the question. Finally, I resolved to seek out the fencing instructor. A few hours of duelling ought to sweat all this aggravation out of me.

The lesson did what I needed it to do; after two hours, I was exhausted and sore, but satisfied. The teacher was good, and I was rusty, so we were relatively well matched. By the end of the second hour, I was covered in sweat, as well as one or two well-placed bruises. He had gotten me good a few times, but only because of how distracted I had been in the beginning. Half an hour in and I was in my element, dancing around the instructor with my sword, jabbing and poking at open intervals. I certainly got him far more times then he got me, but the fact that he managed to get me at all spoke to how truly distressed these last few days had left me. I needed to stop letting distractions in. I was raised to show no weaknesses, and show them I would not.

Walking back through the castle with the instructor, we had to make our way up through the servants quarters, as the rooms used for such sweaty, unflattering activities were kept underground and out of the way. When strolling up to the main part of the castle, the sound of music floated towards me through the smaller hallways. It sounded as though someone was playing the piano, and judging by the many combined voices I could hear from down the hall, others must have been singing along. Looking at the instructor beside me, he shrugged as though it were no big deal; quite obviously, for some strange reason, _this_ was his norm.

Curious, I started to make my way in the direction of the noise, until I was standing outside the door of – what looked like – the servants' den.

It was far shabbier and old-fashioned than the more sophisticated one upstairs, but the scene being depicted inside suddenly left me reeling.

A man I knew went by the name of Fife, the castle's musical conductor, was happily playing an upbeat melody across a baby grand piano while Mrs Potts sat in a worn old armchair, knitting what looked to be a yellow scarf. Chip was on the floor by her feet, playing with his dog. Lumière was sitting on a couch beside the pretty dark-haired maid, both enraptured in conversation, and, of course, there was Belle, who sat on a small bench beside Fife, merrily singing what sounded like an old folks song.

I just stood frozen in the doorway, captivated by the scene of domestic bliss. They all looked so relaxed and happy, despite the fact that all of them had most likely been working all morning, and would have more work to do as the day wore on. As I watched, Chip's dog, Spot, suddenly leapt from the small boys cuddling arms and bounded straight for Belle, who was still singing beside Fife as he played. The dog barked loudly and launched himself right at the girl. She threw out her arms to seize him before he banged into the piano, catching him in mid-leap and falling straight to the floor with the mutt slobbering all over her, licking at her hands and face while young Chip laughed hysterically. I expected her to be angry, as I had been when the dog had brought me to the ground, but she wasn't. The girl gaily rolled across the floor with the pup, rubbing his belly and scratching his ears as she giggled adorably.

It almost made me want to laugh along... until I got a hold of myself.

 _Get a grip. No girl can be as nice as this girl is pretending to be! Remember what happened the_ last _time you thought a girl was nice, she ended up stabbing you in the back... and in the heart. You got her back for it, but did your revenge really make you feel any better about being played in the first place? Let it go, she's just a girl!_

It was only when the music ceased and the cheerful laughter stopped did I realise they had finally noticed me. Fife had ceased his fingers over the keys and had stood along with everyone else in the room, as was respectful behaviour for servants in the presence of their superiors.

 _That's right_ , I thought bitterly, _what right do these people have to laugh and play and enjoy themselves when here I am, buried under a mountain of pressure and confusion?_ I felt like they were mocking me with their enjoyment, and the anger I felt at also being mocked by my own councilmen made something rage deep inside me. My father really did know what he was doing, disciplining his subordinates to be silent and invisible. What was Silas thinking, letting these servants have free reign around his kingdom like this?

Sweeping my eyes over the room, I realised my displeasure must have been all too clear. And when my eyes caught sight of Belle stumbling to her feet, the dog still yapping for attention, unaware of the tension in the air, my patience snapped.

"I would ask that you learn to be a little quieter down here! I could hear all of you from two floors down and your music has now disrupted my fencing lessons." I lied sternly. My lessons had ended an hour ago, but there was no way any of them would ever know that.

They all looked uncomfortable under my piercing gaze. Mrs Potts, ever the peacemaker, stepped towards me, her hands slightly raised as if in surrender. "We apologise for disturbing you Young Master, we were not aware our activities would inconvenience anyone in any way. Please accept our sincerest apologies. We'll try to be quieter in future." She told me demurely, her normally smiling face adorning a small chagrined frown, either from my behaviour or for disappointing me, I didn't know and didn't care. She was not the one in control here. I was.

"See to it that you do more than simply 'try' Mrs Potts. The role of servants is to serve their masters and make their lives more comfortable, not to disrupt them whilst ignoring their responsibilities about the castle." I told the room, and sounded like a complete dick while doing so. Not only was I lying about them disrupting me, but I was basically accusing them of slacking in their duties, when all of them most likely came in here for a few moments on break before returning to their chores. I was the one in the wrong here, but I was never one for self-punishment. When things were not going my way, I made things harder for everyone else to make myself feel better; _that_ was the role of a leader.

Scanning my eyes across the room to ensure everyone understood me, I caught sight of the young boy Chip, hiding behind Belle's skirt as though he were afraid of me. For some reason, that did not sit well with me. My temper flared.

"Understood, Your Majesty." Mrs Potts said quietly, while everyone else cast their heads down.

"Good. Belle!" I practically hissed, turning my attention to the girl once more. I saw her jump and her eyes widen, clearly not expecting to be singled out by me. I smirked at her fearful response as she recomposed herself, took a step forward, curtsied and politely replied, "Yes Your Majesty?"

"I wish to speak with you privately. Come!" I ordered her, and walked from the room without even acknowledging a response. It was a moot point anyway. I knew she would follow.

I marched quickly back through the hall and down the flight of stairs I had just emerged from, hearing the whisper of her skirt and pattering of small feet as a clear sign the girl was hurrying to keep pace with me. Demanding an audience with her had been an impulsive move, but I wanted to talk to her, alone, where no one could overhear us. I didn't exactly know what I wanted to say, but I simply desired to put all this inner conflict to rest; once and for all.

I marched us right back into the hall where I had been fencing, practically slamming the door behind me as the girl scurried in. She jumped again, and spun to confront me with fear in her eyes. Good! She should be afraid!

Before she could say a word, I went straight for the throat.

"Who exactly are you Belle?" I demanded to know, keeping my eyes trained on her face, ready to detect even a hint of mistruth. Her fear shifted to confusion at my question, and I rolled my eyes as though she were foolish for not understanding me.

"What exactly is your title? What do you _do_ in this castle?" I clarified with a growl, desperately needing to know, and half not wanting to. I had had my suspicions for nearly two weeks now, and today I was going to put all this doubt and agitation to rest! If I had to torture it out of the little girl, I would. I was done playing games!

"I... I don't know what you mean Sire." The girl stuttered, twisting the fabric of her pink and red dress nervously. I took a step closer, trying to intimidate her into telling me what I wanted to know.

"Oh, I think you do. Do _not_ play ignorant with me Belle! Stupidity does _not_ become you!" I snarled. The girl literally flinched at the biting snap of my words.

"I serve the royal family Sire. I serve their house and home and am completely loyal to them." She stammered hastily, as though it were a rehearsed line or practised response. A small cruel smirk twisted across my face; I wasn't the only liar in the room it would appear.

"Really Belle? Do you _truly_ serve the house and home of the king?" I questioned silkily, letting my obvious disbelief seep through my sarcastic tone. "Because as far as I've been able to tell since my arrival, you have no official position amongst _any_ of the servants of this palace. You don't work in the kitchens, nor do you clean the house. You don't work in the stables or wait on any of the high-born women. What exactly is it that you do, that you be allowed to come and go as you please and still have enough time to disrupt the behaviour of the well-respected servants whose families have been working here for generations?"

Her brown eyes practically bulged from her face at my accusation, and I knew it was a bullshit accusation, but I was not going to back down! Not in this life! Not ever!

"I... I..." She continued to falter, as she took step after step away from my unexplainable rage. I pursued her, not for a second letting her believe she had the upper hand over me.

"You... you... what?" I mocked her, stalking my prey. I almost let out a yell of triumph when I finally cornered her right into a wall. She didn't break eye contact with me as her back hit the cold stone, though the additional fear I caught flashing through them let me know she knew she was trapped, and she wasn't going anywhere until she told me what I wanted to hear! I'd make sure of it!

"I'm..." She responded softly, her voice no more than a whisper by now, her eyes even glistened with a single layer of moister I knew would spill forth at any moment. But I refused to acknowledge the unpleasant sensation that coursed through me at the sight of her tears, choosing only to rejoice in the fact that she was close to breaking.

I went in for the kill.

"You're a whore, aren't you?" I growled.

The girl literally flinched.

The sign of her guilt, my victory.

"That's it isn't it? I've seen you around Gaston, the way you act, the way you _dress_." I continued, purposefully twisting the truth of all I had witnessed these past two weeks. I could see my words were getting to her, as the first few teardrops slowly slid down her cheeks. "You're fucking him, aren't you? That's your role in this castle, isn't it? That's your _position_!" I sneered, right in her miserable quivering face. "Beneath him!"

"Alright yes! Yes okay! I'm his whore! Are you happy now? Is _that_ what you wanted to hear?!" She practically screamed at me. Pain and shame shining as clear as blue from her dark chocolate pools, but I refused to acknowledge either of them.

I had been right, right all along and I felt like bragging about it.

This girl may have appeared an angel to every other around her, but _I_ had not been fooled. The thought sent a manic surge of delight through my body, clashing fiercely with the adrenaline this heated conversation was producing. I leant back from her panting red face, feeling superior and oh so smug. I had been right. I knew it!

"So... what is it then? Free board and the right to do as you please? Is he _paying_ for your delicious little body? Or perhaps... perhaps... you just enjoy the sex." I championed victoriously.

Belle did not respond at first. Her head was lowered, her chest was heaving and her hands were clenching harshly at her sides. Her whole body seemed to be trembling at my assumptions, I suspected out of fear. When she raised her head, I expected to see her face tear-stained and her eyes brimming with shame and admittance of her sins, but when her head finally raised and her eyes finally locked on mine I was momentarily stunned.

What I saw was not defeat.

What I saw was white hot _rage_.

"That... is... none... of your _fucking_ business!" She snarled viciously at me, each word emphasised by a sharp snapping bite of her gnashing teeth.

In that moment, I was completely struck dumb.

"How... how dare you speak to me in such a manner..." I spluttered inarticulately, but she beat me to the punch, barking out her next words with a maniacal little laugh.

"You think you're the first piece of shit with royal blood who has ever tried to intimidate me?" She demanded to know, shocking me with her harsh words, and her surprising strength as she suddenly pushed me in the chest, hard. I was so startled, I actually stumbled back a little.

"Well, your not! Not even close! You sanctimonious little asshole! What would you know?!" She screamed, once again giving me a hard sharp shove, lifting herself off the wall, refusing to be cornered any longer.

"It must be very easy for you to stand there and judge me from so high up in your ivory tower, isn't it? What would you know?! What would you know about how hard it is to provide for your family when you live in a castle, with a kingdom at your feet and servants bowing to your every whim?! How fucking _dare_ you!" She pushed me again, but honestly, it was not her physical strength that made me retreat step after step, but the sheer look of disgust marring the girl's every feature. She stood before me like a raging lioness, instead of the quiet little mouse she had been mere moments before. I tried to retrieve my tongue, where it had stuck in my mouth. I tried to regain my advantage, but before I could reply, she was yelling again.

"How dare you fucking judge me! You have no idea how hard it is! How hard it is to protect your family when everyone around you wants you to fail! Well, you can kiss my ass, _Your Majesty_!" The title was a mocking sneer, "because I don't give a fuck what you think of me! All of you are exactly the same! Spineless heartless little bullies who jump on any opportunity to get what you want!

"Yes, I fuck him!" She screeched, the words coming so crudely and cruelly from her mouth made me _cringe_ in response, and her crazed looking sneer only intensified as her mad wide eyes drank in my reaction. "And yes, sometimes I even _fucking enjoy_ it!" She sinisterly hissed, somehow knowing how much the words would affect me. "But don't you dare stand there and think you can debase me with your sanctimonious judgement and petty little beliefs. You understand nothing! And you never will! You are just like him! Cruel, vicious and willing to do anything to get your own way, even if it means blackmail and threatening! Well fine, go right ahead, I couldn't give two shits about you or your high and mighty judgements! And you can go right ahead and report me for saying all of this, because I guaranty you, with as much trouble as Gaston went through to get me here, 'beneath him', the only one who will be turned out of this castle is you!" She shrieked, the conviction of her words pouring from her mouth like the anger from her eyes. Molten lava; if I wasn't so shocked, that glare would have no doubt brought me to my knees.

But she didn't give me the chance to react at all. With a blood red face and a heaving chest, her anger seemed to evaporate as suddenly as it had come. Within moments she had gone from screeching like a banshee to looking horrified at her own actions. She took a step away from me, and then another, realising, as I had done, that she had been stalking me across the room much as I had her; as though _she_ were the predator and _I_ was the prey. She stared at me, brown eyes glistening and a tremble on her bottom lip, in surprise, or, perhaps, regret. I couldn't tell. I didn't know _anything_ of the girl in that moment. It was as if she were a complete stranger.

I tried to say something. Anything. Offer some kind of response. React in _any_ way. But I gaped like a fish, my eyes wide with shock and completely glued to her own, not even capable of looking away.

She sniffled, just a little bit, her expression slowly softening until all that was left was a simple disappointment. And honestly, that was more devastating than any of the harsh words she had just attacked me with.

"I hope you're proud of yourself." She whispered into the silence, and giving me one last weak look of disgust, did she flee from the large room, leaving me alone.


	10. Confusion

**Chapter Ten -** **Confusion**

 **.**

I was furious! I did not know where to direct my anger or have any idea how to get it out of me, so it festered and spoiled in my bones as I paced my bedchamber in agitation.

How _dare_ she!

Who did that girl think she was, talking to me like that? All my life, the only woman who had ever dared disrespect me so was my mother. To be screamed at and pushed by a mere servant, a _wench_? It was _unthinkable_!

I had been pacing and fuming for days now, trying to expel my anger, trying to make this seething rage evaporate as it normally did after a few stiff drinks, but nothing was working. A malicious part of me thought to find the girl, grab her by her hair and drag her before the king, demanding she be turned out of the castle, but every time I went towards the door to follow through with my plan, something stopped me.

I had attended dinner that same night and had seen her waiting on Gaston, though this time she was wearing far more appropriate attire thank goodness. I couldn't even bring myself to look at her, so angry I was. I wanted to get her into trouble, for the way she had treated me, but at the same time did not wish to draw attention to what had transpired between us. It wasn't that I was afraid to be turned out of the house, as she had threatened, it was far more complicated than that. The reason I couldn't seem to bring myself to mention it was that during our altercation, I had sparked something in her eyes I had simply never seen before, nor wished to see again.

Her eyes. The way she had looked at me. It wasn't the anger, rage or even the sorrow that was affecting me so... but the _disappointment_. The sheer disappointment she had ladened me with before fleeing from the room was haunting me more than any of the vile words that had spewed from her mouth.

 _Why_ did she look disappointed? Had she expected me to be different, had my words and actions shocked her that thoroughly? True, the last time we had been alone I had been far more civil. Genial, even. But the girl really shouldn't have had expectations of me. I was spoiled and I was unkind, and that was simply how I had always been. It was too late to change my personality. I was royalty and I was good at acting like it; right down to the entitled bratty attitude. But for her to be disappointed, it meant... it meant that in some way, some how, she saw something in me that simply had never been seen before. She had had expectations of me, and I had apparently ruined them. Enormously. The feeling left me hollow.

 _Well, how exactly did the girl expect me to act?_

 _I think it's more along the lines of how she expects you_ not _to act._

I had been running those words she had screamed at me through my mind for days now, and I had been able to pick out quite a few little slips she had made that supported my theory, particularly, when she had shrieked that we were apparently 'all the same.' It was clear she was used to that kind of treatment, and it would not take me far to look for the culprit. Though, it was her words when she accused me of being 'just like him' that had really caught my attention. She had said something like 'blackmail' and 'threatening' was in our natures, but I had not technically blackmailed or threatened her while I had her up against that wall. Sure, I may have acted threateningly _towards_ her, but I believed that in her rage, it was an actual event or group of events she had been referring to.

So, she had been mistreated, threatened and blackmailed by a member of royalty, and my mind kept going back to Gaston. Could _he_ have blackmailed her into being with him the way she apparently was? The accusation was shocking, to say the least. Not only had Gaston never had to do much besides crook his finger to get a girl all over him, but had never, to my knowledge, used force with a girl in his life. It just didn't seem... like him.

But the girl hadn't exactly sounded like she was lying, so...

Perhaps it had been coercion. Perhaps the girl had simply needed a little... _persuading_... to go to him. Maybe he was paying her for her services, because, as she herself had admitted, she was doing this for her family. So, that was understandable... right? It wasn't really blackmailing, it was simply a little... underhanded. And that kind of behaviour was Gaston all over. I knew he loved the hunt and would do anything to obtain something he desired. I had once travelled to another country with him and his father on a nine-week trip because Gaston wished to hunt and spear the head of a boar for his collection, and as we had none in our country, had so been indulged in his determination by the king. When Gaston wanted something, Gaston got it, and I couldn't blame him for wanting her and doing everything in his power to get her, even if I was envious. If he had merely given the peasant girl an offer to help sustain her family, then it wasn't blackmail. The girl _had_ to have been embellishing.

But still, the question lingered... why did she always seem so reluctant around him. It wasn't just the way she seemed to flinch from his subtle caresses at meals, or how she had behaved so fearfully in the library, I was beginning to notice little things more and more often.

I had noticed that whenever Gaston and I would enter a room where Belle was, she would go completely rigid on sight. I noticed that, whenever Gaston spoke to Belle, especially in company, he'd do so as though addressing a child or an adorable little pet. I was actually rather shocked at how blasé he was about the whole thing. Most nobles would attempt to hide a 'relationship' of any kind with anyone of lower station, but Gaston flaunted it. In rooms full of servants, he'd demand she wait for him in his chambers. In front of nobles and councilmen he'd touch her and caress her, and she would do nothing. It made me wonder... why? If she didn't want this, then why was she doing it? And how could she have been so strong-willed and spirited with me, when all she ever did with _him_ was cower and obey. It made no sense and I didn't like it.

What was worse, was that now I was paying more attention, It became stupidly clear that all occupants in this castle knew of her purpose, and I had been the last to catch up. I had even heard them outside my bedroom door once, as I was staying only a few rooms down from Gaston. Once again ignoring the large pile of letters on my desk, I had been attempting to read a book when I heard both their voices as well as the tell-tale sound of Gaston's large clomping boots.

"Gaston, could you please let go of my wrist a little, you're hurting me!"

"Darling, I've had a rough day, so pardon my manners, but I'm afraid this is the gentlest you are getting out of me tonight. I need to relieve some stress."

I didn't even need to open my bedroom door to hear them, so technically it didn't class as spying, as I was becoming quite accustomed to, and what I heard both confirmed my suspicions and solidified my doubts.

Alright, so Gaston wasn't the most chivalric with women, but they all knew what they were getting themselves into. And this girl, well, how could she not know by now what he was like? She had been with him for over a year, far longer than he had kept any of his other conquests around, so she obviously knew how she would be treated, and yet she stayed. The question that made me so confused, so _angry_ , was _why_? If she was _that_ opposed to her own actions, why didn't she stop? Why didn't she _leave_? There were _other_ ways to make money, she wasn't a prisoner here! She could leave at any time, couldn't she?

 _God damn it, the more I spun this web in my head, the harder to untangle the knots became!_

I had thought that confirming the girl's status within the castle would put this strange new fixation to rest, but instead, it had only made it grow back more viciously, and with two extra heads snapping their jaws at me.

I had to let this go. As I had told myself time and time again, no servant girl was worth this kind of agitation. The worst thing about this whole mess was that she was making me doubt myself. For a brief moment, after the girl had left me, in the silence, alone, a part of me had _begged_ to go after her. _Begged_ me to beg her for forgiveness. But once I had shaken free my shock, I had practically chewed that voice up.

A prince did _not_ beg! A prince did _not_ show weakness!

I, royal prince of Fairalia, heir to a throne, owed a _servant girl_ an apology? It was heinous to even think as such! From now on I was just going to ignore her. I didn't care how beautiful she was, I was just going to push all thoughts of her aside and focus on things that were actually _worth_ my attention!

Why did I get the feeling that was easier said than done?

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

My introduction to Angelique had been a godsend, I believed. The woman who had been responsible for planning large events hosted by kings and queens for the past ten years, the woman who apparently had planned my own welcoming gala, though had been unable to attend herself, had officially been called back to the kingdom once more. She was there to begin the planning for the Winter Solstice Silas was to host in two months, and would be staying in the castle for two weeks to begin the preparations for the grand ball. Though she most likely knew the castle and its main showrooms very well, King Silas had still requested that I accompany her and make sure she had everything she needed. Normally I would have scoffed, this job being one so beneath me, but the distraction Mademoiselle Angelique could provide had been an enormous relief, so I had happily agreed. The forty-something short haired blond, who giggled annoyingly every time I called her 'Mademoiselle' as she was 'too young' to be a miss, had been latching on to me like a leech ever since.

Every time we spoke, she'd not so casually run her hand up my arm in an overly familiar gesture and obvious attempt at flirting. Whenever I said anything, she'd always put on a staged little laugh, whether what I had said was intended to be funny or not, and she was constantly trying to get me alone, even though the two of us were mostly chaperoned by Cogsworth and his 'wonderful' expert knowledge of the castle, she was always trying to convince me to go off with her.

As I had said, I was grateful for the distraction she was so willingly providing for me, but could the woman truly not take a hint? She had to be at least twenty years my senior: and she _was_ attractive, in an older woman kind of way, with high cheekbones, big lips and slanted little eyes, but she was simply _not_ my type, and her continued sexual advances only made my mind retreat to who I _wanted_ to focus my advances on.

I was being weak, and a part of me fully acknowledged it. I had already sworn that I would put all thoughts of Belle to the back of my mind, but it was proving a damn near impossible task. It seemed that everywhere I went I was reminded that I could not seek the relationship with her I might have wanted, the relationship my _best friend_ was enjoying. Every time I saw her, mostly with Gaston, the uncomfortable, confusing, bubbling sensation in my stomach would rear up again, and I was left actively seeking the woman driving me up the wall for no other reason than, by simply being with Angelique, I was completely _avoiding_ Belle. Alright, so, perhaps my action may have been construed as 'pursuing' her as well, but the older woman kept taking it way too far in my opinion.

The first week passed slowly enough. Angelique and her team writing out lists and drawing up sketches for the Winter Solstice. Some may have thought the party was planned a little too early, as Christmas day would not technically be here for another two months, and the Solstice was to take place, Christmas Eve, as was tradition, but each year was exactly the same. With each Kingdom designated to one party each year, it was rather like a contest to see who could produce the most lavish and talked about celebration of the country. Angelique had been the most renowned party planner for years now, and if you wanted something done right, you did it on her schedule. No matter who you were.

I was beginning to learn that keeping up with 'her schedule' was a complete bloody nightmare.

As the second week of her stay was slowly drawing to a close, she became more and more ruthless in her pursuits of me. She would often charm Cogsworth out of the room so we would be alone together. Well, not technically alone, as her assistant – a young man who always looked on the verge of tears– had been attached to her hip and completely ignoring us, going about whatever work he was assigned, obviously very used to this kind of behaviour from her.

Whenever we would retreat to the dining hall for supper, she would always sit right beside me, her croaky, thickly accented voice squealing in my ear the whole meal, while Gaston would often be on the opposite side of the table, winking at me and clearly enjoying my torment. I had even taken the opportunity to get him back for the kicking incident a few weeks ago when I caught him making kissing motions whilst indicating to the pair of us. Perhaps our behaviour was childish, but we had never been two for silent warfare. Everything was done out in the open, and as far as Angelique's flirting was concerned, _very_ out in the open.

It was only on the last night of her stay that had sparked any kind of desire in me to return her affections. We were in the ballroom early evening, which was looking rather large and bare without the extravagant amount of party guests, whilst Angelique listened to Fife conduct his orchestra according to the type of music _she_ thought would best be played for the winter solstice, all the while continuously interrupting to make little comments or criticisms. I could tell it was driving Fife crazy, for here was a man who had most likely been performing too royalty before this agitating woman had even been born. But, ever the gentleman, he politely stood there with his hands at his sides and accepted Angelique's _advice_ with perfect manners, while the orchestra members looked as though they might charge at her and begin beating her with their instruments at any moment. I myself was eyeing a certain man's rather heavy looking tuba and hoped I could convince him to part with it while I joined them in the exercise.

"... and the first dance of the night should be soft and graceful, more subtle, perhaps using only one or two instruments. I myself prefer a piece that entwines style and elegance as well as beauty and splendour. I'm rather partial to the piano, and I hear that you, yourself, play?" She questioned rather haughtily.

Fife simply dipped his head in the affirmative, while his orchestra members rolled their eyes at the obvious stupidity of _that_ question. Fife had been a musical prodigy as a child and had performed on his old piano to many a person from all over the world before he discovered his skill in conducting others to do the same. He had certainly been performing long before I'd been alive, hence the sheer stupidity of the dreadful woman's query.

"Wonderful," she cooed, clapping her hands together daintily, "then I'd very much like to hear you play, I never got the chance to do so whilst planning Adam's welcoming gala, but a personal, handwritten piano piece from you would be wonderful for the opening of the Winter Solstice ball. You know how King Silas likes his originality." She quipped.

I resisted the urge to smirk when I saw Fife's lips twitch, as though he were trying to bite back a snarl. He _was_ an incredibly refined man, and his humble background served to ensure that he always showed the utmost courtesy and respect, but I could tell this woman was clearly hitting his last nerve. After she had practically ordered him to write a new piano piece just for the ball, knowing how great musicians could take years to write their own masterpieces, I would not be surprised if Fife ended up reaching for the large man's tuba before I got the chance to. Honestly, the only thing I thought saved the picky woman from the bludgeoning she had practically been begging for, was a soft voice that floated from across the ballroom floor.

"Monsieur Fife, I have the sheets of music you requested."

I internally groaned as the sound of Belle's sweet soft voice carried across the bare hall. I kept my sight from swivelling to her, while every other person did the exact opposite. I watched in amazement as Fife's extremely tense demeanour suddenly melted away, leaving but a warm open-hearted smile in its place. It was clear how he favoured the girl since I had never known anyone to be allowed to sit on the bench beside him as he played. And from the look in his eyes, it was the way a loving father would gaze upon his only daughter.

I hated how so many people in the castle would treat her like she was a _precious flower_. That wasn't what she was and they _all_ knew it! It _infuriated_ me!

"Belle, dear, how many times must I tell you to address me as simply 'Fife', please no more of this 'Monsieur' nonsense. It makes me feel old." He told the girl light-heartedly, eliciting a sweet little giggle that cracked my weak resolve. I turned, and upon seeing me, the happy, carefree look on Belle's face seemed to melt away. A rather steeled look came over her eyes as she took a step in my direction and gave me a respectful curtsy, bowing her head as was expected.

"Your Majesty." She acknowledged me coolly, but without any kind of animosity. Either she had already forgiven me for what had occurred between us those days ago, or she was putting up a front for our company. I believed the latter to be the most conceivable.

"Belle," I replied calmly, not letting my voice betray my sudden burst of anger.

The girl rose after being acknowledged and moved to Fife to hand him the papers she had been holding in her left hand the whole time. Fife smiled thankfully, taking the sheets from her and placing a small kiss on the back of her hand. For some unknown unexplainable reason, the familiarity of his action made my blood boil, even if I knew the intention behind it was completely innocent, I didn't like it.

"Thank you _mon cher_ , I don't know what I would do without you." He gushed, releasing her hand and giving her a courteous little bow, much like the one he had given Angelique, only this one seemed far more sincere and natural. She giggled again and offered him a curtsy in return, while the orchestra behind them all smiled indulgently. I wanted to scoff in agitation; _Is there anyone who_ doesn't _love this girl?_

Just as I asked the question in my head, I turned to look at the snooty woman beside me and found that her thick, bright red lips were pursed in displeasure. She was obviously not attracted to the warmth of this display the way everyone else seemed to be.

Finally, something we had in common.

" _Mon cher,_ you simply must assist me in my performance piece at the Winter Solstice ball, perhaps you could even sing for the masses while I play our favourite melody." Fife insisted, his naturally greying brown hair falling over his dark eyes as he playfully beseeched her.

Angelique began to tap her foot impatiently, clearly not pleased she was no longer the centre of attention. But the two paid her no mind as Belle blushed deeply and hid her face behind a curtain of beautifully soft looking brunette hair. Oh, how I'd love to run my fingers through those soft curls as I lowered my lips to her plump, perfect ones for a lingering...

 _Stop that!_

Before Belle could say anything in response to Fife's gentle pleading, Angelique cleared her throat in an obviously unforbearing manner, successfully directing all the attention in the room back to her. She smiled at Belle, but it was not a smile of friendship, there was absolutely no warmth in the woman's icy eyes, only a look of calm calculation. Stepping closer to the girl, she stuck her arm out in a very brisk manner.

"Angelique, the castles event planner, and _you_ would be?" She questioned rather pointedly, as though declaring her own importance while diminishing Belle's.

"Mademoiselle Angelique, it's very nice to see you again," Belle said politely, taking the woman's hand and shaking it briefly before dropping her arms at her sides.

"Oh, we've met before? You must forgive my forgetfulness dear, it's those common frocks all you _servants_ seem to wear, you see. It does make it awfully difficult to commit one's face to memory out of the masses. Perhaps if you were to dress with a little more... flair... it would be easier to recall your name, but life is I suppose... Belle, is it?" She asked the girl condescendingly, her face all but twisting in pleasure at the low blow she had just delivered at Belle's expense. Everyone knew mostly all servants wore either uniforms or hand-me-downs, and the implication that style and dressing in money had anything to do with being a person worth knowing would be a fine insult to a servant. Her thick lips stretched up in a small smirk as she eyed the girl, already celebrating her victory.

Belle didn't even blink before a similar smile spread across her face. I thought for a moment she was simply going to ignore the jab, but then...

"Yes, and we have met before actually, during the planning of Prince Adam's welcoming gala and last years Winter Solstice. I'm actually surprised you don't recall me from your last visit, as you were _extremely_ focused on Prince Gaston and he _always_ wanted _me_ by his side whenever he came to meet you. But, I suppose, old age _does_ have a way of tricking one's mind to committing falsehoods to memory. No harm done." She replied sweetly.

I could see several of the orchestra members smirking and attempting to hide their snickers behind their instruments as Angelique's face turned an unattractive shade of puce. I was too surprised at the girl's artful counter attack to do anything but stand there in awe. Belle was certainly no wilting flower, I'd give her that. She knew how to fight back when and if the situation allowed it, and I was at least relieved that I wasn't the only one she showed such attitude with. Angelique was a guest in the castle, and while Belle may have held the status of a servant, she obviously was _not_ afraid to speak her mind.

Before Angelique could respond, a boisterous laugh sounded from across the room. Belle seemed to straighten immediately, an action mimicked by every other person as Gaston marched across the hall in an authoritative manner, his eyes bright with humour and going straight to Belle as she curtsied to him.

"That's my girl." He said amusedly, marching up to Belle and leaning down to lay his lips to her forehead, almost tenderly. He made absolutely no attempt to hide his... relationship... with her, and seemed completely unashamed. Most of higher class would find relations with servants aberrant, but he was a prince, and a prince was untouchable. It did not really matter what anyone else said or thought, as long as whatever it was between them was kept within this castle, and out of the obvious public eye.

Gaston pulled Belle to his side, slinging one arm around her shoulder, unapologetically staking his claim. She went to him without a fuss, though I noticed her light-hearted smile had vanished.

Angelique's rather hateful sneer painfully transformed into a bright fake grin as she addressed the other prince. "Your majesty," she greeted in a sultry voice, dipping into her own curtsy, purposefully flashing him far too much of the low cut top of her dress. When she rose, she looked pointedly at Belle before turning to the prince, "I'm quite surprised at how outspoken this servant girl seems to be Sire. Do they not teach _servants_ to respect their _betters_ in this kingdom?" She questioned, some of her earlier smug attitude returning, clearly sure she was going to land the girl in hot water. Belle did not look the least bit concerned.

"Indeed, we do. And I might have even scolded my Belle for it, if she had indeed been disrespecting her _betters_." Gaston retorted mockingly, baring all his immaculate teeth.

The event planner's face flushed as she staggered back, as though physically struck. The thirty odd orchestra members seemed to be having mixed feelings about the turn of events; some were finding anywhere to look but at the four of us, who now stood centre in something that could potentially turn into a bloodbath, and some were watching avidly, as though the drama of the moment were the most entertained they'd been in all their lives. It was only Fife's expression I could not deduce, as he stood behind Belle and Gaston. He was eyeing the arm that was resting on Belle's shoulders and glaring.

I was relieved I wasn't the only one who disapproved of their relationship for unexplainable reasons.

Before things could escalate any further, and before Angelique could say anything she would most definitely regret later, I decided to step in and defuse the tension.

"So, Angelique, are you going to be returning after the winter solstice ball to plan Gaston's coming of age celebration?" I asked the silently seething woman, who was gritting her perfect sparkling teeth rather painfully at this point. My question seemed to knock some sense into the vapid lady, for she seemed to shake herself, run her hands over her revealing dress and straighten her back, brushing off Gaston's insult and plastering another fake smile on her face.

"Of course! I've already been asked by the king to lend my expertise to plan the event. And what a marvellous event it is bound to be as well. I'll have to take some time with you, Your Majesty, to inquire as to any _personal_ preferences you may have." The woman said to Gaston, even adding in an over exaggerated wink, clearly flirting.

For some reason that one action... irritated me. It wasn't as though I had any feelings for the woman, really I could hardly stand her company, but with Belle standing _right there_ under his arm, and with another woman who had been pursuing _me_ all week, now trying to throw herself at _him_?

No!

 _He already had Belle, he couldn't have them both!_

Gaston chuckled, as though the idea were appealing, though I knew the look in his eyes. It told me he was quite enjoying himself at the desperate woman's expense.

"Of course, I would be happy to lend my opinion," He purred, and for a moment Angelique's face seemed to light up with pleasure before his next words no doubt extinguished that light.

"Belle, you'll accompany us, won't you? I'd simply _love_ your _input_." He smirked down at the small brunette under his arm, and she looked up and gave him a single nod and a weak looking smile, "Of course Gaston," she replied.

Beside me, Angelique was barely keeping it together. She had been insulted both subtly and outrightly by both Belle and Gaston, and honestly, I didn't know whose insults were getting to her more. Behind her, her assistant was fixed on the scene, with a wide smile and eyes practically glistening with joy. He had been trampled over the whole two weeks by Angelique and no doubt viewed this as her getting some well-deserved comeuppance.

Angelique turned to Belle and practically snarled. "Someone of your station is permitted to call royalty by their given names? No wonder you're so unruly child, you clearly lack such basic manners as to know how to address your superiors." She hissed.

Belle simply stared back emotionlessly, with only a small raise of her eyebrow. I couldn't figure out if she was insulted or amused by the older woman's rather pathetic display, but I'd bet on amused since she herself had told me she wasn't one for caring what others thought about her. True, that comment had been directed at me, but if she didn't care for the opinion of a prince and soon-to-be king, why would she care what anyone else thought?

Instead of becoming offended, Gaston merely chuckled at the woman's words before telling her, "of _course_ my beauty is allowed to say my name, I love the sound of it on her lips, and it gives me the incentive to make her _scream_ it."

A few gasps around the room signified how inappropriate his words really were, but, no one dared to speak out. I looked at Belle beside him, but she did not even seem the least bit embarrassed by Gaston speaking so publicly of an act so intimate. There was simply a little huff and the slightest hint of an eye roll.

For whatever reason I could not explain even to myself, her apathetic attitude to his behaviour made me feel a little... sad. Like, she _shouldn't_ have been _used_ to Gaston acting so uncouthly towards her. But this was the way Gaston was, how he had always been with women, so...

Gah! What was _happening_ to me?!

I had never been filled with so much doubt in my all life. Belle belonged to Gaston. He had gotten her, fair and square. So why was it the picture of the two of them before me, in a seemingly intimate embrace, make me feel... so damn horrible?

I didn't _like_ being so clueless. It was driving me insane!

It wasn't until I had effectively returned from the muddy puddle my mind had become that I realised Gaston was smirking at me. I blanched, praying that nothing I had just thought had shown on my face.

He was baiting me, I realised, practically challenging me to say anything in defence of the annoying woman beside me. We had played similar games when one of us had ended up with a more attractive female than the other. Normally, the girls would be friends, and it was a kind of obligation for one of us to latch on to the ugly one while the other got to spend an amazing night with the prettier friend. This situation was similar but different. Gaston had obviously gotten the prize, but he was trying to set me up with the dud? I wondered if Gaston believed I had bedded her already. She _had_ been spending the last two weeks rubbing herself all over me, perhaps Gaston was trying to 'set me up' so to speak. Whether he was doing it out of sympathy or of malicious intent, I had no idea, but I did know that it was working.

I had absolutely _no_ attraction to the woman, other than her obvious good looks, since the moment her flirting had started, but now I was thinking... what if I just... gave her what she wanted. Took her to my room and bedded her and hopefully got the fantasies about Belle out of my head. I couldn't have the brunette beauty, that much was obvious, but the woman beside me... I very much could have. And why not? She had been practically begging me for it for the entire length of her stay. Why not use her, and let her use me, as long as we both got some relief? The more I thought about it, the more and more appealing the idea seemed. I needed to relieve some stress, and she was an obvious choice so... why not?

I found myself suddenly grinning back at Gaston to thank him for his assistance, and he simply shrugged as if to say, 'what are friends for?'

"Angelique," I said conversationally, drawing her attention back to me, where it should have _stayed_ in the first place. She turned around, clearly still distressed, but I hoped to change that soon enough. With a smirk on my face, I stepped towards her and quickly took her hand in mine, bringing it to my lips in a mocking gentlemanly gesture, though due to a lot of practice, only Gaston and I would know how _gentlemanly_ I was truly being.

"I find myself interested in learning more about your plans for the Winter Solstice ball. Perhaps we can discuss this matter further. Say, over drinks in my bedchamber?" I propositioned silkily. Her pursed mouth suddenly dropped from angry to stunned, and her face lit up a deep red as she blushed like a young girl, staring at the hand I had just bestowed a kiss to before looking up to bat her lashes at me. She took a step closer, her coy smile returning.

"I would be honoured, Your Majesty." She purred, attempting to sound sexy, but really it only made her seem more pathetic.

"Marvellous." I cooed, using my grip on her hand to pull her towards me. She let out an exaggerated giggle, and I resisted rolling my eyes at the stupid creature. I bent down and pressed my lips to her ear, whispering, "and perhaps after drinks, we could indulge in some dessert?"

She nodded like an eager puppy and followed behind me as I began to pull her from the room. I didn't look back. Satisfied as I was to know that I had not lost all my appeal and that _some_ women still wanted me, I didn't want to face the reaction of the crowd. More specifically, the reaction of the woman I could somehow feel staring at my back as I walked away.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Angelique was looking at me like I had just pulled off my head and was now juggling it in front of her whilst singing 'Mary had a little lamb.' Honestly, I was just as mortified as she was in this exact moment.

"What do you mean?" She demanded, outraged. "What happened?"

I wished I knew the answer to that myself.

The second I closed the door of my bedroom, she pounced on me. Throwing herself at me like her life depended on it. She mashed her lips to mine and began kissing me with wild abandon while rubbing herself against me and attempting to remove my clothing. Never one to miss an opportunity, and set in my plan to blow off a little steam, I kissed back. Grabbing hold of her, I switched our positions and pressed her against the wall, hearing her let out an animalistic moan as she continued to rip my clothing free from my body. Not to be outdone, I grabbed hold of the front of her dress and tugged, hard. The noise of ripping fabric and falling buttons was the only accompanying sound to her gasp of surprise. Lips still moulded together, I grabbed both her legs and lifted her to straddle me, aiming straight for the bed. We crashed down upon it in a mess of tangled limbs and somehow managed to remove most of our clothing while our bodies and lips were still connected. Finally ridding her of her extravagant dress, I moved my hand up to cup one of her thinly covered breasts and she let out another small gasp and moaned my name.

"Oh, Adam!" She panted, thrusting her body up to meet my hand.

"Oh, Belle." I gasped, and a second later, all kissing ceased.

It took me a few moments to really notice that anything had gone wrong. When I was in the heat of the moment, I very rarely cared what was happening with my bed partner. As long as they were making me feel good, nothing else mattered, but in that one single moment, I thought I could feel the temperature in the room drop about a thousand degrees. I opened my eyes, to see the older woman no longer looking up at me with lust and heat, but with shock, surprise and rage.

" _What_?" She demanded, and I looked at her, dumbfounded, unaware of what had gone wrong to change her attitude so completely.

"What?" I countered her, just as confrontationally. I wasn't in the mood for this right now. I was in the mood for something, and it certainly wasn't talking.

"You said, 'Belle!' She accused, her voice low and her face stone cold, as though I could not have delivered a worse insult. I looked down at her, confounded.

"No, I didn't." I defended. Of course, I didn't. Why would I have? She wasn't here, and I was just about to be intimate with another woman. The brown haired goddess had been the furthest thing from my mind.

"Yes, you did! You said, 'Oh Belle!' Were you thinking about _her_ just now?" She yelled at me shrilly, pushing me away from where I was still hovering over her. She pulled herself up to the headboard, still sparsely dressed and looking at me angrily.

I didn't understand.

I had never used a girls name before, not once... not since Marie had I called a girls name during a heated exchange of passion. To call a girl's name, while I was with _another_ girl... I...I...

"I can't do this," I said softly, staring down at the bed covers in shame.

"What!" She squealed, and I cringed at the piercing, ear-splitting sound of the woman's voice, still unwilling to meet her eyes.

I was humiliated.

This had never happened before. Never, since the age of fourteen, had I been rendered unable to... perform. I looked down at my own body and noted that the arousal I had felt only moments before, had, indeed, softened. Completely. It was mortifying, and now she was staring at me like I had lost my bloody mind because I couldn't go through with something that should have been second nature by now.

"What do you mean 'you can't do this'?! You were having the time of your life just a few moments ago! Don't tell me this is about that stupid little girl!"

I cringed, literally, something I could scarcely remember ever doing in front of a woman who was not my bitch of a mother. I didn't know what to say, how to defend myself. I looked up at the woman who was practically steaming with anger. I had absolutely no attraction to her, at all. She was just supposed to be a distraction. A one-night release and she hadn't even been able to do that right. I met her gaze and spoke quietly.

"I think you should go," I said, stepping away from the bed in search for the shirt that had been flung somewhere during our brief moment of heated passion.

"Go?!" She questioned loudly, as I hastily replaced my shirt and scanned the room for the dress I had ripped off her body.

"Yes, go," I replied, picking the garment up and holding it out to her. She'd never be able to wear it again, but at least it would be better than undergarments as she found her way back to her room.

"No, Adam, C'mon! It was just getting to the fun part. Don't kick me out, I... I don't care that you said her name okay? Let's just pick up where we left off." She begged pathetically, getting off the bed and sauntering towards me, putting a purposeful spring in her step to perhaps show off the bounce of her breasts, which were quite easily in view thanks to the scrappy piece of lingerie she had on.

"No," I told her sternly, capturing her wrist before it could rub against my chest. Her face turned sour, and she snatched her hand from me quickly and glowered at me in a way no woman ever had before.

"This is all because of that stupid whore, isn't it? You're just as fixated on her as prince Gaston! Well guess what Adam, you'll never get near her, not the way you obviously want to, Gaston would never allow it! He's as strung up on that little bitch as you apparently, even though I have no idea why! She's just a little girl playing a woman, I'm a _real_ woman! I could please you so much more!" She screamed.

Her words made my blood boil. It wasn't the disrespectful way in which she spoke to me or even the way she added salt into the already festering wound of how I couldn't be with Belle the way I wanted to be; it was the way she talked about her. How dare this woman accuse Belle of being a whore whilst standing before me half naked telling me she could _please me better?_ If there was a whore in this castle, it was _her_. What right did this woman have to judge Belle?

…

…

…

 _Like you did?_

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown all over me, as I finally came to understand the real reason I had been so angry these last few weeks.

I felt _guilty_.

It was an emotion I had never felt before, in all my life. I wasn't one to dwell on my actions, or even think anything wrong of them, even when I knew I had done something completely shameless and spiteful. It was my right, after all, to treat anyone of lower rank in any way I pleased, but now that the thought had wormed its way into my mind, it was stuck.

I should never have called her a whore. She hadn't deserved that abuse. Even if she admitted to me that was exactly what she was, I couldn't help but feel repulsed by my own actions.

She wasn't a whore, that was so obvious now. Belle was sweet and kind and caring and she didn't throw herself at every single man who gave her the slightest bit of attention. She didn't strut around the castle knowing that every man residing in it would probably give their left arm for a night with her.

She was shy. Humble. A _good_ person.

The woman before me had no right to name her a whore, and neither had I.

"Get out!" I ordered Angelique coldly. She gave me one last glare before snatching her dress from my fingers, flinging it haphazardly over her head and storming from the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

 **Whats up ducks?! Okay, so first, I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and I want you all to know that I enjoy reading your reviews just as much.**

 **In fact, I have so much faith in you as readers that I am just going to go ahead and say, that my final editing for this chapter came off the same hour I watched the season premiere of Game of Thrones. Suffice to say my mind is so packed full of G.O.T awesomeness right now I am finding it hard to concentrate. I have done my best, but if you spot any mistakes, feel free to brandish your pitchforks at me.**

 **Hope to hear from you next chapter duckies! Peace out.**


	11. When The Dog Bites

**Chapter Eleven** **-** **When The Dog Bites**

 **.**

"So, I take it last night didn't go quite as planned, she didn't stop glaring at you all through breakfast. What happened Adam, couldn't perform?" Gaston cackled.

We were walking through the woods, doing our last hunting trip of the year before the real cold of winter set in and all the animals went into hibernation.

Or, at least, that was the excuse Gaston had given me when he rushed me out the door this morning. In truth, I knew he was just avoiding another one of his kingmanship classes, as he had been for the past few weeks now. It amused me that he was still exactly the same as when we were children; he still detested sitting still, wasting time reading literature and now we were literally hiding from his tutor. I supposed I was just as bad since the large stack of letters on my desk looked as though it hadn't dwindled at all. I think I was half hoping that I'd go to sleep one night and the pile would simply vanish by the time I awoke. Childish, but I didn't care. Not in that moment. I was with my friend, hunting in the freezing woods, and that was exactly where I wanted to be right now.

I snorted gruffly in reply, a puff of cold air rising from my mouth as I did so. I couldn't tell him just how close he was; he'd never let me live it down.

"Yeah, I thought of you last night, and the thing just deflated." I sardonically joked, rubbing my hands together to try and get some feeling back into them.

"Awe, Adam, you think about me?" He asked in a rather bizarre high pitched mockery of a girl's squeal, batting his eyelashes at me dramatically. I kicked a bunch of dead shrivelled leaves his way, and he laughed before resuming his hunt.

Angelique was gone, and I wouldn't have to face her again until a few days leading up to the Winter Solstice ball. A few members of her team were still in residence and would be here to oversee some of the bigger decorating projects already approved by the king, but I didn't care about that, as long as I didn't have to be around her I was golden. The constant reminder of my failure was not something I could stand at the moment. I had been failing so much lately, and I found I did not care for the feelings of humiliation and despair that came with it. They were not emotions I was accustomed to nor did I wish to be. As I had resolved in my own castle, it was time I stopped acting like a prince and started behaving like a king.

But one more day of avoidance with my friend couldn't hurt.

We skulked stealthily through the forest and ceased all conversation once we reached the lake's edge. We were actually getting pretty close to the place where Belle had been attacked by those wolves, but I pushed the memory aside immediately, wanting just _one_ day where I wasn't consumed with thoughts of her. I didn't think that was too much to ask.

"Adam." I heard a quiet whisper and snapped back to attention to see Gaston eyeing the river. On the opposite side, on a small dip in a rather large bank, stood a tiny doe. Barely mature, the little animal was dipping its head and lightly lapping at the small stream, unaware that two predators were staring at it intently. It wasn't exactly our usual prey. We normally went for male animals, since they provided the bigger trophies, but the look in Gaston's eyes was unmistakable. He was going in for the kill.

He ever so gently eased his musket from his shoulder, positioning the great rifle into perfect position for his shot. I watched him in silence, my gaze torn between him and the small doe still gently drinking at the water's edge, completely naïve to the fact that she'd never see another day again. Looking at the petite creature, I felt a sudden unexplainable tug in my chest. It was an unpleasant feeling that made me want to look away while Gaston delivered the final blow. My heart began to beat faster as this strange feeling tore through me. What was wrong with me? I had never had a problem with watching any animal meet his demise whether by my hand or any other. So why was I turning away in disgust? The doe was simply so beautiful, so majestic, so innocent; I suddenly couldn't bear to see the hunter end her life.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud chaotic bark ripped through the silence, sending the doe scampering off as fast as its legs could carry it. I jumped a foot in the air in surprise as Gaston's gun went off by mistake, the shot missing the spooked animal by inches as it fled into the mass of trees, to safety.

Gaston roared and swivelled his gun to face the offending creature who had ruined his hunt. I was just as surprised as he to see the beast was none other than Spot, who must have somehow gotten away from the child long enough to find its way into the woods.

"You stupid mutt! I'll teach you!" Gaston yelled and aimed his rifle again. I had a split second to react. Leaping forward, I pushed the gun to the side just as the bullet released. The startled creature ran terrified from the noise, and I breathed a harsh sigh of relief as I saw the bullet had wedged into a tree, not two feet from where the dog had been yapping. The animal very wisely scampered away and Gaston rounded on me.

"What the fuck, Adam?" He yelled, yanking his gun away from my grasp.

"That was Chip's dog!" I shouted back, watching the animal run into the distance. Gaston had to have recognized it, so why did he fire at it?

"So what? The mutt ruined my hunt, it should have taken its place over the neck of my horse!"

"You couldn't have just shot it! What would everyone back at the castle say?"

"Who cares?" He demanded, staring at me like he had never met me before. It was true, I _had_ never disrupted his hunt before, but that was Chip's dog. Just imagining the devastated look in the boy's eyes if we had brought the animal into the castle, dead, made my voice clench in my throat. But how was I suppose to explain that kind of feeling to Gaston, when I didn't understand an ounce of it myself. He'd only laugh at me, or continue to stare like he was seeing a whole new side of me, one he didn't appear to like at all.

Clearing my throat, I did my best to force a smirk on my face, even though I was the furthest thing from amused. Gaston still looking at me guardedly, I snidely replied, "Come on Gas, a doe? Is all that time you're spending with Cogsworth making you soft? I know you can do better than that. That mutt did you a favour, how would the head of a baby deer have looked next to all those grand conquests? Don't tell me you're losing your touch."

Gaston stared at me a few moments more before he let out a frustrated growl. "You're lucky we're friends." He grumbled sulkily, stomping away from me. I let out a little chuckle – one of relief as much as amusement - and followed behind him as he clomped onwards.

A few hours later, we were sitting on the grass eating some of the food we had taken from the breakfast table when a random thought prompted me to start a conversation.

"Hey Gas, aren't you worried about what your father's going to say when he finds out you've ditched your lessons again?" I asked him, taking a large bite from a pork pie. As kids, we had played hookey with a lot of our professors, completely uncaring of the consequences. But with his coronation so close, I had to think his lessons would be a little more important to him now. The fact that he was _still_ avoiding his responsibilities was interesting, and I had to admit I was curious to know what was going on inside my friends head. He swallowed his food loudly and chucked the rest of the meat to the floor before his face soured. "Oh Adam, you have no idea how lucky you are that your father isn't here barking orders down your throat. I'd give anything for that kind of freedom." He commented flippantly.

I sat completely frozen for a moment, almost unable to comprehend those words just came from his mouth.

Gaston had never been the most sensitive person in the world, but did he really just tell me I was 'lucky' that my father was dead?

Granted, I hadn't had the best relationship with my father, the same as Gaston with his, but I had never wished death upon him.

I studied my friend as inconspicuously as possible as he casually chugged down some wine from a flask we packed, unaware of the sudden tension that had entered the air.

I knew Gaston had a difficult relationship with his father, but I had never questioned him on just how deep his resentment truly went. While Silas was an effective ruler, he was not an affectionate parent. Just like mine hadn't been, but there was more to the story than that.

The rumours of Silas's infidelity had been going around for years now. Whispers of how he had cheated on his wife with other women, had multiple sordid affairs and even fathered several bastard children. The most popular and criminal of the gossip enjoyed by bored housewives was that Silas had actually been entertaining a female bed partner whilst his wife was giving birth to their son. I had never asked Gaston if he believed these rumours, but if he did, I supposed that would give him all the more reason to resent the man. If you watched the two of them from the outside, they appeared to have a perfectly civil relationship, but I had grown up with Gaston. I had been their hearing all his complaints, and he had been there through all of mine.

Gaston had been the one who I had confessed my feelings to after my parents' funeral. Once they had been buried in the earth, his ears were the only ones who heard how glad I was they were finally gone.

I wasn't proud of myself for making that remark, I had been hurt and angry... and lost. I may have disliked them, but they were all I ever knew, and I didn't know how to live life without them. I had thought, if anyone would understand, it was Gaston.

He wasn't my best friend for no reason. He had been there through everything.

So I understood his bitterness towards the king, I really did, but I didn't know how to tell Gaston that things didn't get any better after my father died, and things would be just as difficult, if not worse, for him if his father did the same.

I should have opened my mouth and said something, but I didn't want to appear dramatic or appear like I was attempting to coddle him, and in a moment, the moment was over. Gaston stood himself up and brushed himself off, before tossing the flask in my lap and saying, "Take a swig Adam, you look like you could use it," before walking off.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

The rest of the afternoon passed in something of a blur, and before I knew it I was back in the castle. As of right now, I was doing my best to avoid Gaston. The conversation we had shared out in the woods had been almost sinister, and yet he had behaved as though nothing unusual had occurred. Perhaps I was making too big a deal out of it, overexaggerating for apparently no reason. I wasn't really used to serious conversation when it came to my old friend. We'd normally joke around and goof off, but serious wasn't something we usually shared.

Maybe that was why I felt so out of step walking back to the castle with him. He had revealed something deeply personal, but I hadn't reacted at all, and given him enough time to brush it off as nothing. Then again, maybe I _was_ overexaggerating. Maybe it was just a meaningless comment or maybe he was just trying to screw with my head in retaliation for messing with his hunt. I sincerely hoped that was the case, as I didn't quite know how to tell Gaston to not take his family for granted, and how thinking things like that would only make him feel ten times worse when Silas finally did pass. Chances were, that would be many years into the future, and, as I said, Gaston and I weren't too good on doing 'serious.' So I pushed it to the back of my mind and continued on to my bedchamber.

I stopped short, however, when I spotted my door slightly ajar, even though I knew beyond a doubt that I had locked it before leaving this morning. Approaching slowly, I put my hand flat on the door and pushed gently, only to be left standing frozen at the sight that met me.

Belle was in my room.

I couldn't say how many nights worth of fantasies flashed through my mind as I took in her delicious form. She was soothing out a fresh set of sheets she had obviously just applied to my bed, before picking up the dirty ones and placing them on a cart that held several other cleaning supplies. I watched quietly as she folded down the corners of the covers and tucked them neatly under the mattress. It was incredible, even performing such a mediocre task she was spellbinding.

I didn't even notice when she finished with her work until she grabbed hold of the cart and turned towards the door. Upon finally spotting me, she, too, froze.

And for a moment, we simply stared at each other.

Then she looked away. Hiding her face behind her raven feather hair, she dipped into a curtsy.

"My apologies, Your Majesty." She said respectfully, though her voice was shaking. "Several of the housemaids are still sick with fever and I was asked to attend to your room. I had meant to be gone before your return but I... um... had a little accident." She blushed a deep red and her eyes swivelled towards my large mahogany desk, which was empty save for a few stray quills and the haphazard stack of letters still sitting there untouched. I didn't know what she had meant by ' _accident'_ until I took a closer look. The letters, which were stacked in two high piles, looked as though they had been straightened out. They definitely looked a lot neater than how I had left them, and the sight sent a ripple of panic through me. Just thinking about the possibility of anyone discovering what was _written_ in those letters... I snapped my head back to glare at the girl.

"What did you do!" I hissed, taking a menacing step towards her. She retreated only once before she caught herself and held still.

"I'm sorry Your Majesty. I was dusting and I accidentally knocked the pile down. I cleaned them up as best I could but... if they were in any kind of order..." She trailed off, biting her lip and looking up at me guiltily. Her apology _sounded_ sincere, but I was still suspicious of her. What was she doing in _my room_ , of all places? And why was she in my room doing someone _else's_ job? Even if maids were sick, why was that _her_ problem?

"Did you read any of them?" I demanded, taking another step forward, backing her into the bed. She caught herself from falling, flinging her arms behind her to catch the bedpost and looked up at me horrified.

"What? No! I would never invade your privacy like that!" She defended, trying to move away from the object blocking her retreat.

"Then tell me why you're here!" I ordered, my voice becoming colder by the moment, refusing to register the true panic in her eyes.

"Some... some of the maids are sick..."

"Yes, I _heard_ that part," I interrupted her stammering. "What I _want_ to know is why are _you_ doing a maids job. I think we are both perfectly aware that is _not_ your duty to this castle!" I sneered, and then almost instantly regretted it as she cringed, her shoulders dropped and her bottom lip started to tremble.

Oh crap. She was going to cry.

 _Calm down_ , I ordered myself. _She has no reason to go through your things, what possible interest would matters of court hold to her?_

Even though a part of me still wished to hold on to my suspicion and anger, when I really thought about it, the logic of the matter soothed me immensely. _None_. _There's no reason. Now calm yourself, you're scaring her._

Forcing myself to take several deep, easing breaths, I returned my sight to the girl only to see her shoulders quaking uncontrollably. It was strange. Remembering our last heated encounter, though I was loath to do so, brought forth the question of why this confusing girl seemed to flit between strength and fire to quiet and submissive. It was like there were two girls sharing the exact same body. I looked at her face and could see she was still biting her lip, trying to control her trembling chin, while her large brown eyes filled with moister.

"Belle," I said gently, immediately gaining her attention as she locked eyes with me surprised. "I am not angry with you. For... Forgive my outburst. Please calm down." I forcibly beseeched her.

Her damp eyes widened to the size of saucers. To be perfectly honest I was just as surprised as she was. I couldn't even remember the last time I had truly apologized to somebody, let alone asked for forgiveness. I had practically staggered over the word, so strange it sounded on my own tongue.

Perhaps it was my words or my uncertain tone, but it seemed to do the trick. She took a few soothing breaths and subtly wiped at the bottom of her eyes. I was so relieved she wasn't going to cry. I had no idea how I would have comforted her if she had done.

"I'm... I'm sorry Your Majesty, truly I am. I should have been paying more attention. It was my own fault, and I take full responsibility for any inconvenience I might have caused you. Please, if you're going to complain about this, leave everyone else out of it." She implored me.

Her plea stomped me for a moment there. 'Leave everyone else out of it'? What did that even _mean_?

Then I remembered a small snippet of the conversation held about the girl in the library a few weeks ago, and recalled one of the servants saying how Belle would rather get herself into trouble then let anyone else take the fall for her. Thinking about that day made me think of Mrs Potts, who I had come to learn had been promoted in the recent years I had been away. She now held the position of head of staff as Cogsworth spent most of his time as a kind of unofficial advisor to the king. Cogsworth still held some power over staff matters, but as he was kept far too busy nowadays, it seemed that Mrs Potts was the next logical choice for keeping everyone in line.

Just then, a thought occurred to me.

"Mrs Potts asked you to come here, didn't she?" I asked thoughtfully.

Belle held her hands up towards me beseechingly.

"Please Your Majesty, don't visit any ill will you may have with me on her head! So many of the staff have taken sick since winter came and the poor woman has been ladened down with so much work she's hardly finding time to eat. She only asked me to clean a few rooms because she knew I had some time free. It wasn't her fault I was clumsy. Please, I'm begging you! If you have a grievance, take it out on me. I'm so..."

"Belle!" I yelled, just to stop her yammering. She ceased speaking immediately, looking up at me with pleading eyes.

Damn. This girl was too much.

"I'm not going to say anything. Those letters have done nothing but sit there for days gathering dust, and were in absolutely no order at all. Even if they had been, I would never seek to cause trouble for Mrs Potts purely out of spite. I know how hard that woman works, trust me, I've known her far longer than you have. So calm down. Breathe. Nothing bad is going to happen." I assured her.

My words seemed to stun her, but I couldn't blame her for it. The last time we had shared a conversation I had been a complete asshole. I wasn't shocked that she assumed I would jump on any chance to cause trouble for her, but the implication that she believed me so petty... bothered me.

It was a strange sensation because honestly, _feelings_ were not something I dabbled in very often. It felt so surreal to admit to myself I had hurt feelings because of what she thought about me. I would just tell myself to brush it off, but my method of ignoring her hadn't worked out at all the last time I had tried it. I couldn't simply forget she existed because everywhere I went, she was there. Honestly, I thought the best method, for now, would be to simply attempt to be civil until I went home. It would be a long gruelling few months, but it was literally the only option. Letting my envy for Gaston's treasure fester had only precipitated an explosion of anger that I had no right to take out on her. I still felt as though I should apologize for all I had said but did not quite know how to get the right words out. I was never the best with apologies, let alone honest ones, and I didn't think I possessed the right amount of finesse to word it sincerely enough.

I opened my mouth a few times, hoping the right words would simply fall out, but nothing happened. Whether it was pity or gratitude, Belle seemed to dismiss the awkward moment, and the second she smiled, all thoughts were lost.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I _really_ appreciate it." She told me, giving me a small appreciative smile. She then moved to her cart and began to pull it away towards the door.

Wait! I wanted to yell. I didn't want her to go. Sure, her impression of me must have improved tremendously in the last few minutes, but I still wanted to apologize for all the things I had said. I wanted her to walk out that door with absolutely no negative feeling towards me at all, but as I was watching her walk away, I found my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.

As the tip of her dress disappeared through the archway, the only thing that came out was a whispered...

"Call me Adam."

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

A few days later, I was walking through the castle aimlessly, lost in thought and trying not to think at all. The conversation I had shared with the brown haired girl had stirred quite a few strange feelings within me, some of which I didn't even have a name for. What was it about her that made me behave so uncouthly? I could have blamed my odd behaviour on my unusual morning with Gaston, but that sounded like a weak excuse, even to me. I had _apologized_ to her. I had asked her to _forgive_ me. I may as well have laid down on the floor and let her clean her shoes on my back for how much of a pushover I had behaved. Yes, I had already accepted that I was guilty of how I had spoken to her, but I had handled that conversation like an untrained youth.

We were alone. We were in my room. I could have easily used my unfounded moment of compassion to charm her, maybe even to the point of wooing her into the nice clean sheets. But the more my mind lingered on that thought, the more implausible it felt. It was wishful thinking, I knew. Belle wasn't like every other girl I had seduced into my bed, and it was almost painful for me to admit that fact to myself.

Still, the facts didn't stop me from fantasizing, and every time I saw her the fantasies only grew stronger and more intense. I just couldn't help but feel like she was wasted on Gaston. It wasn't really fair to say since I knew that had I been the first to approach Belle, I most likely would be treating her the exact same way he was; as though she were a trophy. I would have dangled her on my arm and taken pleasure in the fact that every male wanted what I had, and never would have had a second thought about it being wrong. I wouldn't have appreciated her the way I was learning to do from afar, but even with my appreciation, I couldn't help but feel that Gaston was getting the better end of the deal.

After all, she shared his bed, and I seriously could not imagine a greater pleasure.

It wasn't until I looked up that I realized I was standing in front of my own bedchamber, but I had absolutely no desire to go in. All that waited for me in there was loneliness and a bunch of responsibilities I could not be bothered with right now.

"Adam?"

I must have jumped about a foot in the air as I hadn't even been aware of anyone else in the hallway. I spun and was met with the sight of my friend's head hanging out the sill of his bedroom door.

"What are you doing just standing there?" He asked, genuinely curious, with the slightest hint of amusement.

I straightened, trying to cover up my embarrassing moment, and ran my hand over my neatly groomed hair.

"I was just... thinking," I replied.

A sly grin slowly spread across Gaston's face as he stepped out of his room.

"Dangerous pastime Adam. Are you sure you can manage without hurting yourself?" He mocked.

I gave him my favourite finger and he chuckled loudly. I even managed to crack a smile. My first one in days.

"Come on, come and have a drink, and then you can tell me what's got your panties in a twist." He said, disappearing back into his room. I let out a little huff of defeat but followed. I really _could_ use a drink.

Gaston's room was precisely the way it had been when I left. The walls were the same tarnished copper colour, the furniture was still huge and imposing, trappings of black and gold decorated every wall and surface and a massive four-poster bed stood proudly to the right wall, drawing the utmost attention such a large object deserved.

Gaston went straight to a cabinet in the corner and all I heard was the clinking of glasses until he emerged with a bottle of fine red wine and two flute glasses on a tray. Setting it down on a small table sitting between two large leather armchairs, he took one and encouraged me to take the other.

After pouring out our drinks, he handed me my glass and I sipped with a satisfied sigh.

"Good year," I said off-handedly.

"Better than the swill they serve at the tavern I'll tell you that," Gaston replied, swallowing a mouthful and leaning back in his chair contentedly.

We sat like this in comfortable silence for a little while longer, before Gaston picked the bottle back up.

"So, are you going to tell me what's been bothering you lately, or am I going to have to get you drunk first?" He asked, holding out the bottle for me and refilling my empty glass.

I didn't know what to say.

So much had happened since I returned from my trip, it felt like I had been back for several months, not just four weeks. So many things had been plaguing my mind, and it had been frustrating because before I got back here all I was doing was attending parties and entertaining myself with women. I had had three years of relaxation and fun, only to return to this bombshell with my kingdom, the deceitfulness of my council, the destruction of my castle and the little doe-eyed peasant.

It made me wonder just how obvious my inner turmoil was to others. I had been trained to hide any weakness, but then, I recalled, Gaston had submitted to the exact same training. Had I been wearing all my insecurities on my sleeve, or was it just my old friend who saw through me so easily?

It made me wonder if he suspected how much of my troubles were being caused by his servant girl. If he only knew just how badly I wanted her, how consumed I was with fantasies of just one night with her, I had to think he'd either be incredibly angry or find my plight completely hilarious.

Either way, he knew that something was off, and even though I despised sharing weakness, if I was going to have to talk about something that was bothering me, I might as well pick the one thing I could explain the easiest.

"I suspect there may be some foul play with my councilmen," I told him stoically, not letting my anger and confusion over the matter seep through. Gaston gave me a pondering look before he put his glass down on the table.

"What do you mean?" He asked me, more serious than I could ever remember him looking. _Oh, great. I have his full attention._

Bringing the last drops of wine to my lips, I took a stalling sip before confessing, "I suspect they have been misappropriating some funds since the earthquake. I also have reason to believe that they are purposefully delaying the mending of the castle to keep me from being there. I've been trying to think of ways to prove they've been cheating my crown, but so far, I haven't been able to find any evidence." I told him honestly.

It was the truth, though I wasn't about to tell him just how little effort I had really put into finding evidence of their treason. It made me angry, and I _did_ want to do something about it, but every day the task just got more and more daunting. As I said, it was all a lot to get hit with after three years of slacking off.

Gaston leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It was something of a mirage to see him look so concerned. It wasn't an expression I was used to seeing on his sharp face.

"Have you tried talking to father about this?" He asked me in a foreboding voice.

I shook my head. "I don't want anyone to know about this Gaston. I don't want word getting back to my councilmen that I suspect them of anything. And I don't want your father to concern himself with my kingdom. I need to find a way to handle this on my own."

Taking in my words, Gaston leaned back in his chair. His gaze was penetrating, as he contemplated me while absently stroking his thumb over his chin.

"So... I guess you're taking on the role of king already. How does it feel to have an entire kingdom in your hands?" He asked me solemnly.

I sagged against the proud leather with a sigh. "Exhausting," I complained, dragging my hand down my face.

I wasn't surprised to hear a light chuckle to the left of me. "Thanks for letting me know what I'm in for," He laughed lightly.

I scrounged up a small smile at his behaviour, picked up his bottle, poured myself another hefty glassful, raised my glass in a mocking toast and replied with a simple, "you are welcome."

After a few shared snickers, we relaxed back into silence. The bottle nearly empty, I thought it was about time I called it a night. I set my glass back on the table, ready to rise and bid him farewell, when he turned to me and said, "Well, I think that's enough serious talk for one evening. How about you and I go and have a little fun?" He suggested, looking somewhat pleased with the prospect.

I wanted to groan. Normally, with as stressed as I had been, I would have been all for blowing off some steam, but tonight I just didn't feel up to anything. Looking out the large wall of windows behind me, I could see the sky was already dark. It couldn't have been that late, but honestly, all I really felt like doing was crawling into bed and getting some much-needed rest.

"Not tonight Gaston." I declined, shaking my head. "All of this stress with my kingdom is completely exhausting. Honestly, I just feel like a night of rest would be better than a night of loud music and incapacitation," I told him, trying my hardest not to sound like some old fart complaining about back pain or something. Of course, I could rely on Gaston to make a joke out of me.

"Oh Adam, growing senile already? Do you still want me to see about those knitting needles for you?" He asked me in mock sadness, trying his best not to let his lips twitch and failing miserably.

I glared at him playfully. "You get me knitting needles, and I will tell you exactly where I will stab them!" We chuckled together for a few more moments before Gaston regained his breath. Standing from his chair, I thought he meant to escort me out before his next sentence flawed me.

"Then I hope you won't mind if I slack my lust?" He asked, before walking towards his door. Thinking for a moment he was going to leave, I half rose only to see him open a small cupboard hanging beside the door, right at level with his eyes. I had a similar cupboard in my room. Inside it was a rope that when pulled, set off a bell in the kitchens and main staff areas. These ropes were available in every upper-class resident and guests' bedrooms, so they could call down to the servants for everything they wanted at any time of day or night.

I watched him tug his cord and literally within moments, there was a knock at the door. Behind it stood a man in a servants uniform, and he bowed to Gaston before asking respectfully, "How may I be of assistance, Your Majesty?"

"Go and fetch Belle. Tell her I want her ass in here immediately." He ordered harshly, before closing the door on the man's face.

And just like that, all the contentment and calm of the last few minutes completely shattered.

 _Oh no._

I had to leave. I couldn't be sitting here for this! Whatever Gaston had planned I had absolutely no desire to witness. Seeing the small touches they shared in public was more than enough.

Gaston, seemingly oblivious to my sudden tension, withdrew another bottle from the cabinet in the corner and sat back in his chair. His casual movements slanted a harsh juxtaposition to my own because I wanted to move, truly I did, but found myself completely glued in place.

"More wine?" I heard him offer as though hearing his voice through a tunnel.

 _What are you doing? Just get up and leave! Make some excuse and leave, you do_ not _want to be here for this!_

But all too soon, before I could force any words out of my mouth or make use of my own legs, Gaston's door slowly opened, and there she was.

Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she was wearing the simple blue day dress I had seen her adorning often. The one that made her look like an average peasant girl and at the same time made her completely irresistible. She was always beautiful, but then I took a closer look at her face, and the first thought that jumped to mind was: s _he looks tired._

The way her body appeared slightly hunched over, her flushed skin and the dryness of her lips made me think of someone being overworked. I remembered what she had said about a lot of the staff being off sick, and was actually surprised to find that before right now, I had not even noticed anything was off. My food was still cooked perfectly and delivered to me on sparkling cutlery. My bed was still made when I returned to it each day. If I requested a bath, my tub would be filled with lovely hot water within the same hour. I certainly hadn't noticed any slacking in the staff, but then... Why would I have?

 _A prince does not concern himself with servants,_ remember _?_

But with this one I did. By the look on her face, I was very _very_ concerned.

"Ahh, there she is." Gaston cooed beside me, popping the small bubble I had just encased myself in, and now I had to curse at my own stupidity. I had missed my window of opportunity. I should have just thrown myself out the door then and there, but how would that have looked to Gaston? I certainly didn't want him suspecting how much this one girl had been affecting me lately. Indulging in the feelings was tolerable while I was alone, but no one else could discover my weakness; least of all her.

Belle was still standing at the door, and that's when I noticed she was looking right at me, completely shocked to see me here, but in only a moment, that shock was wiped from her face. Turning back to Gaston, she dipped into a small curtsy and said, "You called for me, Your Majesty?"

As much as I had sympathized with the girl mere moments before, a part of me suddenly became very agitated at her complete dismissal.

 _I may not be her master, but she could have at least acknowledged me._ _What do I look like, some stable hand?_ I thought angrily.

 _No, she actually_ likes _the stable hands_ , I reminded myself snidely, cringing inwardly when remembering her affectionate behaviour towards that Lumière boy. Was it really just _me_ she hated?

"Indeed I did. Close the door Belle, we don't want anyone else seeing what's mine now do we?" He told her pleasantly, almost _too_ pleasant. I could detect the mocking amusement beneath his kind tone, but only because I knew him so well. I wondered if the girl could tell the same.

I watched as he beckoned Belle towards him with the crook of his finger. She complied immediately, walking to him straight and poised. For some reason, seeing her like that made me uncomfortable. It was as if she had no emotion at all. I would have thought a girl like her would be the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, but it appeared she knew how to mask her emotions surprisingly well. I wondered if that was only something she had learned since entering Gaston's service, or if it was something from before. I knew so little of the girl's life, but right now, it was her present I was being affected by.

As boys, I had watched Gaston play with countless girls. We were rich and we were bored and we had nothing better to do with our time. I hoped that some of the things I had witnessed then weren't going to happen now, but at the same time I kept on thinking... maybe this is my chance to get some answers to the mystery that was my best friend and this strange girl. Perhaps if I watched them, when it was just us and no audience for them to perform for, maybe I could get some answers to the questions rattling around in my mind.

Gaston was looking up at her with an unreadable expression. Lifting his large hand to the girl's face, he caressed her cheek before breaking the silence.

"So, how was your day?" He asked her, sounding genuinely interested.

Belle didn't skip a beat.

"It was fine Your Majesty." She said quickly.

"Just 'fine'?" He replied.

She gave him a short nod.

Gaston's left eye twitched and his pleasant smile slowly mutated into a cunning smirk. A finger now stroking the skin of her neck he persisted, "You look tired Belle. And I have to wonder, with me being occupied for the day, whatever you would be doing that would hagger that pretty face of yours."

Belle seemed to shift uncomfortably at his question, or perhaps it was his intense scrutiny that was causing her discomfort. He hadn't moved his eyes off her, nor her him, and I wondered if either of them even remembered I was still in the room.

"I... I uh..."

"At least I _would_ be wondering," He interrupted her stammering, an unpleasant edge creeping into his voice that had me confused, "If _several_ of the castle guards hadn't reported you scrubbing hallways in the south wing today." He said, smile gone, and in its place a dangerous leer. Belle gulped as his hand, that was now stroking the skin just at the neckline of her dress, suddenly raised to clasp her chin tightly. Using his grip he pulled her down until their faces were mere inches apart.

"You know, if you wanted to spend all day on your knees, you need only have asked." He murmured next to her ear.

I barely heard the words, but the sordid, sinister implication in them would have been detected by a deaf person.

Using his grip on her chin, he forced the girl to her knees before him. An unpleasant chill coursed through my body at the sight. She looked worriedly up at him, and I wasn't sure what to think about it. Why was Gaston acting this way? Why did she look so scared?

Pulling his hand away, Gaston leaned back in his chair, staring down at her coldly. Practically growling, he barked, "I thought I told you to stop concerning yourself with the matters of the servants." There could have been icicles forming on the furniture, his tone was so cold.

Belle looked up at him pleadingly, it seemed that her facade, too, had evaporated.

"I know, Gaston, and I'm..."

"And yet you think it is acceptable to disobey me." He interrupted harshly, and I was just now realizing how angry he really was with her. Where had this come from, he had seemed perfectly fine not even a half-hour ago, and now it seemed he was seething with anger? Since when was Gaston like this? Normally, when he was provoked, he burned red hot, and everyone would know to stay out of his path until he found some way to calm down. But now, it seemed, he had developed a small amount of control over his own temper. It was obvious he was furious with her, but the fact that I had been unable to detect that anger while we had been talking was amazing to me.

Belle was fidgeting uncomfortably on her knees, her fingers twitching in her lap. Biting her lower lip, she once again raised her gaze to his, her wide eyes desperate with worry and guilt.

"I-I'm sorry Gaston. Please, I didn't mean to disobey you. It's just that so many of the maids are sick and I..."

Gaston's hand suddenly shot out, his fingers clawing into the girl's hair, yanking on it harshly until she cried out.

"Do you think I give a fuck if the maids are sick!" He demanded to know, shaking the girl in his tight grip, her face twisting in pain. I wanted to say something then, to tell Gaston to stop acting like a ruffian and let the poor girl go, but all I could do was watch in morbid fascination as her hand shot up, as though to attempt to remove his fist from her hair, only to lower back down slowly, returning to rest on her lap.

"No, Your Majesty." She replied shakily.

"Such a clever girl." He mockingly sneered, practically flinging her away from him. She caught herself from falling, but her face was flushed an unpleasant red and her hair now sat in disarray. The sight before me was not pleasant in the slightest, and I turned to my old friend, determined to say something in defence of the girl, but my words caught in my throat as he continued to reprimand her.

"You seemed to have forgotten Belle, that your time, as well as everything else of you, belong to me. If I tell you not to do something, I expect my order to be followed. But since you appear to have such trouble following my orders when I'm not around, perhaps we shall see how well you do while I'm in the room." He told her, the sharp edge slowly melting from his harsh tone, his voice once again returning to its cool calmness. Relaxing in his large leather chair, he stared down at the quaking girl contemplatively.

"Stand." He ordered quietly, and the girl shot to her feet so fast it gave me whiplash. I saw a small smirk crawl onto Gaston's face, clearly amused by her 'eagerness' to obey his orders. I had to wonder, why was Gaston choosing to scold this girl in front of me. Wasn't he the least bit apprehensive of admitting he couldn't control her, as I had been when admitting I couldn't control my underlings? I understood that Belle was his, and he had every right to discipline her if she was openly disobeying him, but the amount of pleasure he seemed to derive from tormenting the girl... I didn't know, it just unsettled me. Not that it mattered. My presence was completely forgotten as the two of them seemed hypnotized by one another.

"Now," Gaston drawled, slowly shuffling to the edge of his seat. "I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourself, Belle. Though I really should punish you for daring to go against my wishes, I am going to let you make it up to me. Would you like that?" He asked her, as though speaking to a small child. Belle squirmed uncomfortably on the spot before she closed her eyes and nodded, looking completely resigned to her unknown fate.

"Good," He drawled, dragging out the word, cocking his head to the side as though examining a strange animal. "I am going to give you an order, and if you can obey it completely for however long I choose, I will forgive your previous slight and there will be no punishment, agreed?"

Belle eyed him hesitantly, and I did the same, wondering what he was going to ask of her and already knowing that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. After a few moments of trying to search his face for answers, she finally relented, with a guarded, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good," He repeated, the smirk crawling back onto his lips. "Then your order is... do _not_ move."

Belle's eyes sharpened as she stared at him in confusion, before what he did next completely shocked the pair of us.

His hand, which had been resting on his own knee, suddenly moved forward and bunched the bottom of her dress and then... disappeared underneath.

Belle's whole body seemed to lock down, becoming rigidly still as his challenge demanded. I might as well have received the same order, for I sat equally frozen as I watched Gaston's arm slowly rise, Belle's dress shielding his hand from sight. Belle was biting the inside of her cheek, her face one of deep concentration as though she was using every bit of self-control she had not to cringe or slap his hand away. _My_ hands were clenching the arms of the chair so tightly I could hear the creaking of the strong wood underneath. Sure, I had seen Gaston touch girls before, but they had always been willing, always been smiling and sighing and even inviting me to join in. It was very obvious to me that Belle did not want his hand there, so what... what exactly was it I was seeing right now?

Then suddenly, Belle's breath hitched, her eyes practically popping from her face as Gaston grinned in pleasure. I knew what he was doing, I would be an idiot not to know, with where his hand was, but I just couldn't believe the expression adorning Belle's face. She wasn't experiencing pleasure, this wasn't some game to her. Gaston's words suddenly rung through my ears, 'there will be no punishment'. Just how bad were the 'punishments' she received that she would endure _this_ just to avoid it?

I now understood that Belle most definitely did not enjoy Gaston's attentions. I had had my doubts up until now, wondering why a girl like her would be serving someone like us, but I now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was doing so _against_ her will. I looked at Gaston's eyes and saw so much unrestrained desire in them I was almost repulsed. He must have been touching her intimately, but her eyes were squeezed shut and her face scrunched in response. She clearly didn't want this, so why was Gaston enjoying himself so much?

What did Gaston have on this girl, that he would make her behave in such a way, and why was he doing this to her in the first place? I might have done the same if I had met her first, I wasn't denying, but he seemed to take an almost vindictive pleasure out of the discomfort he was causing her. What had happened to my friend while I had been away, and how did this girl factor into it all? I had to figure this out. I was sickened by his actions, but then I thought, if this was just another random girl, would I even have cared?

"It feels good, doesn't it Belle?" Gaston purred sultrily, his voice husky and laden with lust. Belle opened her mouth as though to speak but it appeared she was having a difficult time forming words. Her lips puckered open, but all that came out was a few heavy breaths as she continued to attempt to keep herself still. Gaston's hand was still moving, I could tell, even with her dress shielding my sight, and I could see the slight quake of her legs even with her valiant efforts to obey his commands.

Not satisfied with her silence, Gaston growled, "Answer me!"

Forcing her face to relax from its scrunched appearance, Belle raspingly whimpered, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good girl." He drawled with a cunning smile, "see what pleasure you can have when you _obey_ my commands?" He asked flippantly, and just as suddenly, pulled his hand free.

I almost jumped at his abruptness, completely enthralled by the lewd display. I swallowed harshly, watching Gaston smirk at her and pull a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket, staring at her arrogantly as he used the white sheet to clean the wetness from his fingers. Belle lowered her eyes to the ground as though ashamed by her own body's reaction to him. I was so confused by this girl, by the pair of them, I had no idea what to think anymore.

"We'll save your pleasure for later, then. Right now, your king needs attending to." He told her, tone returning to mocking cordial as he casually slipped the hanky back into his pocket. "Remove your dress." He ordered.

I jolted in surprise, shocked that he would want her to do such a thing in front of me, but then I was not even sure that either of them recognized I was in the room anymore. The moment they had just shared had been so intense and salacious I could practically see the tension emitting from the pair like waves of heat on a ghastly hot day. This was never something I should have witnessed, and yet I was still here, practically sweating in my suit while my body refused to cooperate with my brain and get my ass out of here before this got any worse.

I could see the hesitancy in Belle's eyes, but the imposing look on the face of my friend seemed to serve as enough intimidation. With head cast low, she brought her trembling hands behind her back and gently pulled at the ribbon binding the fabric there. Within moments her dress slowly slid from her shoulders, falling to the floor before I could bring myself to look away, and now I was just gawking.

Standing before us, in nothing but a thin slip, so much skin exposed, I wished I had never left. As my eyes hungrily, unrepentantly hunted over the smooth, rosy, blemish-free skin I wished I had been the one to find her. To touch her first. To introduce her to all the pleasures my best friend had no doubt been gorging himself on. She had a pretty face, there was no doubt, but her body - shielded only by one pale cream chemise that only reached her knees - was simply phenomenal.

I suddenly wished I had taken that earlier offer for more wine, because my mouth was as dry as a desert storm. _What must it feel like, to be completely bathed in such soft skin..?_

"Your lucky Adam," a voice to my left said gloatingly, and my head snapped in his direction, having truly thought he had forgotten I was there. He was grinning at me wickedly, almost as though he could tell how much envy was burning through me in that moment. Perhaps he could, perhaps he could read me like an open scroll, because I felt like I had no control. All I wanted to do at this point was grab the girl, toss her over my shoulder and run with her back to my room. But it had nothing to do with how she clearly did not want to be here, oh no, I wanted her with me because I wanted her. I wanted to command her like Gaston was doing. I wanted her at my beck and call like she was to him. I wished more than anything I knew what he was holding over her head, to get her to act this way, because I wanted it. I wanted it _all_.

"I've never allowed anyone to see this much of my little servant girl before. You really _should_ feel honoured." He boasted.

A red haze seemed to cloud my eyes at his words. Maybe it was my lust for the girl squirming uncomfortably before me, or maybe it was anger at the thought of my friend indulging in pleasures I wanted to possess so badly. My lower half ached for the need to reach out and grab her, but before I could consider such uncouth action, Gaston was talking again.

"I'd like one more thing before I release you from your punishment." He muttered, staring up at her as he had that doe only days before, as though she were the most delicious prey he had ever hunted.

I jolted in shock as he abruptly stood, making Belle jump back in surprise. Gaston towered over her, and yanked her back towards him with a harsh grip on her delicate little arm. A gasp escaped Belle's lips as she collided roughly with Gaston's chest. She looked truly tiny beside the goliath that was my friend. He was a head and half taller than her and most likely ten times as strong. Standing in his embrace, she seemed so fragile. It was difficult to acquaint what I had learned of her, with what I was seeing now. Where was the fire now? Where was the feisty spirit? Why wasn't she calling him to task as she had done me?

I needed to leave, I could see that Gaston was almost at the point where messing with Belle wasn't going to be enough, and I honestly had no desire to witness everything I knew I wanted to do, but couldn't.

Before I could make any decision Gaston snaked his arms around Belle's back and crushed her harder into his chest, his large palm cupped her chin and tilted her face at an awkward angle so she was looking up at him. Smirking down at her, he murmured, "Now, my beautiful little pet, kiss me."

Belle took a deep breath, swallowed and then forced her lips up to meet Gaston's. _Ouch_ , I thought, feeling a sudden pain shoot through my hands. Tearing my gaze away I realized I had been clenching my nails into my palms so tightly I had begun to draw blood. I didn't want to watch them, but there was just something so enthralling about the pair I couldn't help but be drawn in. I had watched them kiss before, but I hadn't had this reaction, it felt like my whole body was trapped in an inferno. I just couldn't stop looking at Belle's face. As Gaston continued to possessively claim her mouth, all I saw was the girl's eyes; and they were dead.

She didn't want this.

My salvation came with a sudden knock on the door, dragging me out of my spellbound state. Belle stumbled away from him in surprise, and he only let her because he, too, seemed startled. Both of their mouths were red and chapped, but Gaston was smiling. He had clearly enjoyed himself as he stared at Belle while she gasped for air.

"Prince Gaston," Cogsworth's voice came muffled through the other side of the door. "The king has requested an audience of you, he bids that you please proceed to the throne room immediately." His breathless voice announced importantly.

I jumped up at once, so eager for any excuse to leave I could have kissed the old man. Gaston sighed irritably, then reached out to run a finger down Belle's flushed cheek before he looked her in the eye and grumbled, "I guess we're going to have to pick this up later."

With his grip still on her arm, he moved forcefully across the room, Belle stumbling along behind him. With a small push, he forced her to sit on the large, extravagantly decorated four-poster bed.

From where I stood practically fidgeting by the door, I saw him lean down and whisper something that I couldn't hear, then turn to stroll over to me, where he opened the door and gestured me out first. I didn't even have the courage to look back at Belle, I simply hurried out the door before Gaston closed it, and locked it.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I followed Gaston to the throne room. Perhaps I was being intrusive, but I needed something, _anything_ to distract me from what I had just witnessed. All I felt like doing at this moment in time was dunking my head into boiling hot water and scrubbing my brain clean. The images of the two of them so fresh in my mind I could see it all playing out like some badly scripted theatre performance. I needed something different to think about. I'd take _anything_.

But when we reached the throne room, and I saw Silas sitting regally waiting for Gaston, I fully intended to turn and take my leave. If the king wished for a private audience with his only son it would be incredibly rude of me to impose. I was just about to open the door when the king called out, "Oh, Adam, you can stay. I think it will be beneficial for you to hear this as well." His powerful voice, booming through the large extravagant room, sounded resigned.

"Father?" Gaston replied, the nervous infliction in his voice taking me off guard. When was the last time I heard Gaston sound nervous?

"Son," The king responded, beckoning him closer. We both walked straight-backed and proud towards the large dais which held many steps leading up to the imposing thrones. The throne room was a grand structure, similar to the ballroom where everything was garnished in gold and marble. Three huge impressive intricately decorated windows streaming brilliant moonlight through the ample room stood proudly behind the thrones. Silas sat upon one large, high backed black marble chair, and the other identical one remained unoccupied, as it had been since the death of Silas's wife. The rest of the hall was empty, save for the two guards who stood armour clad behind the king, completely unmoving. It was eerie, being in such an immense space when it was only the five of us. It made me wonder why Silas had requested an audience here, and not in his private offices.

Reaching the dais leading up to the thrones, we both got down on one knee and bowed our heads respectfully.

"Rise boys," Silas said, and I took a few steps back so the king could give Gaston his fullest attention. The man's aged blue eyes narrowed in on his son.

"I've been informed that you have been slacking in your teachings of late." The king began, looking Gaston right in the face, the intensity of his gaze making me squirm, and I wasn't even the one under such scrutiny. I had warned Gaston about this. I knew the king would be angry.

Gaston scoffed, looking up at the man he petulantly replied, "Father, I no longer need to be monitored like a child. I have learned everything I need to know in terms of keeping our kingdoms strength and power."

 _What are you doing Gaston?_ I thought silently, as I stared at his back. It was obvious to me now why the king had chosen the throne room. He had wanted to address Gaston from a position of power, but it appeared Gaston didn't realize that, right now, he should be talking to the king, not the father. I wanted to point this out to Gaston but to interrupt now would be seen as incredibly disrespectful. People had been imprisoned for less.

"Our kingdom is built on more than strength and power, Gaston. It is also built on wisdom, endurance, tenacity; three things I have been informed you sorely lack. You say you need not be monitored like a child, yet you shirk your responsibilities, show no respect to your teachers and prance around the castle displaying that harlot on your arm."

I tensed. I knew he was talking about Belle, but I didn't dare draw attention to myself, no matter how much I hated her being referred to as a 'harlot.'

Gaston was getting angry. I could see his fingers were beginning to curl, and his back grow rigidly straight. Even if I couldn't see his face, I knew the king's comment had struck a chord with him as well.

His voice had a twist of spite as he barked, "Don't presume to know me, father. The last I checked this is the first private meeting we've had in months, could that be that you've been far too preoccupied with 'harlots' of your own? We both know you only ever think to draw attention to my mistakes whenever you haven't had a wench wrapped around your cock."

 _What the fuck Gaston!_ I wanted to kick him for being so stupid! To say such a thing was absurd enough, to do so when there were _witnesses_ , no matter how few, was just insane! What was with his mood swings lately? Five minutes ago he was happy, and now he was furious again? What in the worlds would possess him to speak to his father that way?

I didn't dare breathe. The king looked outraged, he stood from his throne, staring dangerously down at Gaston from the edge of the dais, looking infinity more menacing as he appeared to tower over the pair of us like a true man of power would.

"Don't you dare speak to me with such insolence boy! You are my only heir and you have the responsibility to the throne, but I will never willingly release it to you until you prove yourself worthy of it!" He roared, his outrage thundering through the empty hall.

"I am set to inherit the thrown on my twenty-first birthday!" Gaston responded, equally as outraged. From the corner of my eye, I saw the king's guard twitch ever so slightly, like they were considering intervening. The fact that they would feel any need to do so, particularly since this was his son standing before him, frayed my nerves. I wanted to beg Gaston to shut up and calm down, but as a silent spectator, all I did was stare slack-jawed at the two men I had known all my life, and watch as they battled each other for dominance.

"You will never inherit the throne if you keep behaving like an irresponsible child! I suggest you begin by putting your duties before your own pleasure! This kingdom was built on the blood and sweat of your ancestors and I will not see it all crumble because of your ignorance! I will not allow it!" The king bellowed.

I was frozen in the corner for mere moments before Gaston stormed from the room in a mad fit of rage. I caught but a brief glimpse of his face before he passed me to the door, and his eyes looked fit to kill. I practically cringed as the heavy wooden doors slammed shut, the noise echoing like a death toll.

For a second I considered catching up with him, to talk to him or try to calm him down, but after a moment thought better of it. None of this was my business.

I watched the king sit himself back down on his throne and put his head in his hands. After a few moments of palpable tension, Silas raised his eyes again and levelled me with his gaze.

"Speak of this to no one Adam. You may go."

He did not need to tell me twice.

Bowing, and stupidly wishing him a 'good night' I fled the room as quickly as I could without making it appear like I was running scared.

What had just happened? Seriously, it all occurred so quickly I was having trouble digesting it. I knew Silas would disapprove of Gaston ignoring his responsibilities as prince, but did I truly just witness the king refusing Gaston the throne because of it? I could only pray this whole mess was sorted out before I took my leave, or else every kingdom in this country would be drawn into the cross-hairs.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I couldn't sleep. I had been tossing and turning in my bed all night, but the memories of the day refused to disappear, actively haunting me with all the possibilities of the future. I wondered the dark halls of the castle aimlessly, not knowing or caring where I was heading. The palace seemed surreal this late at night, or rather, this early in the morning. This castle had never felt more like my own than when it was this silent and lifeless, the only light cast by the small candle I was holding, its flickering flame spitting sinister shadows across the walls, making me shiver.

The confrontation between Gaston and Silas had been surprising, to say the least. Yes, I was well aware that their relationship was strained, but the way Gaston had spoken to him...

I hadn't felt particularly fond of my father. I hated my mother, but to my father, I was simply neutral. He acted as my teacher, and my guide, the only tutor I had ever given my fullest dedication to, but that was all he had ever been. Until the age of seven, I was under the impression that my relationship with my father was entirely normal, It wasn't until I started coming to this kingdom more frequently that my expectation of how a father _should_ act had been warped. Interestingly enough, that realization came with witnessing exchanges between a young Lumière and his father. It wasn't anything special, but whenever I had gone to the stables, I had always seen them together, tending to the horses and laughing. I could never remember laughing with my father. I could never remember my father _laughing_ at all. The fact was, the interactions intrigued me. As I was mostly only exposed to royalty and people of higher class whilst living in my kingdom, most of my childhood memories were around children exactly like me. It was only through observing the servants that I began to see something was very wrong.

I got into a lot of trouble for it, mostly scoldings from my mother on the rare occasions she would accompany us to Silas's kingdom, when I was told that 'a prince should not concern himself with servants'. But it didn't matter to me. By then, I was already sneaking off for my private meals in the kitchen with Mrs Potts, who treated and spoke to me in ways that made me feel confused and so so special. I experienced envy for the first time in my life when I realized how much more lively this castle was to the one I was sequestered in. Even Gaston had other kids to play with when I wasn't here, as most of the councilmen had children a few years older, or younger, than us. They had always been sent off to boarding schools after they reached a certain age, only returning for holidays and special family occasions, but the point was, they were here to be around in the first place. Any councilmen or servant in my kingdom who had children were sent away similar to here, but my mother had always strived to keep me away from any child, accepting only at social gatherings. I could never make heads or tales of why, maybe she just wanted me to be alone. Perhaps she disliked me so much that ordering my nannies and tutors to keep me occupied and isolated from everyone every holiday season amused her. It was most likely why she hated being here so much, because no one could ever keep Gaston and me apart. Here, I had a friend, and there was nothing she could do about it.

But it appeared, that within the last few years my friend had lost quite a bit of his head. Silas may be his father, but Gaston would have to be a fool to think his threat wasn't real. Silas was in no way obligated to hand the throne to Gaston when he came of age. The coronation ceremony would happen no matter what, but it was entirely up to Silas whether he decided to complete the historical gesture of kneeling before his son and handing him his crown, announcing him as his successor, or whether he chose to stay seated on his throne, thus keeping it to himself. I could only imagine how devastated my friend would be if such a thing were to come to pass. It may have appeared that he had no interest in holding the crown to some, but he had been training his whole life for this. We _both_ had. And I wasn't entirely certain how the future would look if I were ruling my kingdom as king, while Gaston still stood behind his father as a prince.

Yanking myself out of my dark speculation, I noticed I was standing in front of the kitchen doors. Looking around me, I saw the hallway was empty, but I wondered why my feet had brought me here. Gingerly placing my hand flat on the wooden door, I pushed it slowly open to reveal the large dark empty kitchens.

I couldn't put my finger on why I was disappointed in that moment, maybe I had expected some company. There was no doubt some servant would still be awake, waiting in the servants' den unless anyone called down for assistance, but with none here, the normally vibrant room looked bleak. Holding up the small candle I used the light to lead me to the staff's room, sat myself down at the table and rested my head in my hands, thinking what to do.

Should I talk to him? Convince him to apologize to his father? He would be reluctant, I knew, with how prideful he was, but he wasn't foolish. I knew his mind, and I knew on some level he respected his father, the way I respected mine; all he had to do was express it. He couldn't just say something _that_ insulting and storm off, this had to be corrected before the anger between them festered and the resentment made Gaston do something stupid.

"Come … ..." I heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door, followed by the bashing sound of several pots hitting the concrete floor. I jumped in surprise, my brow furrowing as I leapt from my chair; _who is that_?

I quietly crept to the door, unsure of why I'd feel the need to conceal myself. I was here first after all, and it wasn't like there existed a law that forbade me from coming here. Still, I very slowly cracked the door open, hoping that the kitchen would still be dark and that whoever it was making noise wouldn't notice me. At first, I saw the silhouette of Mrs Potts- _what is she doing here?_ – shielding a candle with her right hand and moving towards the large wood fire stove. Peaking out of the crack in the door, I squinted through the darkness curiously as she poked the pile of wood and straw with a large wooden paddle before bending down and placing the flame to the stack. Almost immediately, the room was flooded with a low light, and I silently shifted behind the door to keep myself from being seen.

I watched as she pulled a bowl from a high stack of cleaned cutlery and headed towards a barrel of what I assumed was water, before she dipped the bowl in. _What are you doing?_ I thought, watching her intently. Maybe she was working tonight. Perhaps one of the councilmen had called down for water and she was simply fetching it for them? But there was something wrong, now with the room shrouded in a tinged orange glow, I could see the sombre look on Mrs Potts face. It was dark, and I could have been seeing things, but I genuinely believed I had never seen her look so upset before. Her normally pleasantly rounded, sweet-tempered face was marred by a harsh frown and a trembling chin. From my limited view, I couldn't see much other than what was right in front of me, but I risked exposing myself and pushed the door a fraction of an inch wider, shifting to keep her in view. I watched as she tipped an empty fruit crate upside down and nudged it across the room with her foot. She pushed it towards the table she had placed the bowl of water on, and then looked sadly towards the door.

I was very confused by her actions and was just about to come out and ask her what was wrong, when she beckoned to something with a quaking hand and croaked, "Come, child, sit. There must be some bandages around here somewhere. Oh dear, where would Marcus have put them? That man can never seem to..." She continued to babble frantically, but I was no longer listening, Because someone else had now moved into my frame of sight, to sit on the food crate Mrs Potts had pulled out, and when I saw who it was, my heart stopped.

Belle slowly lowered herself onto the crude makeshift seat, her whole face flinching in pain as she used the edge of the table to balance herself, whimpering as she carefully sat herself down.

I couldn't tear my eyes from her face.

 _Her face..?_

There was a large, ugly black bruise covering her entire left eye, it looked almost completely swollen shut! She looked deathly pale and sickly and her other eye... looked haunted.

How had this..? How could this _be_? She had been fine mere hours ago, how could she have..?

She was facing almost directly at me, but the light was low enough that I believed she couldn't see me. She was turned only slightly to the right as she shifted on the crate, as though trying to make herself comfortable before letting out a low groan, her hand immediately shooting to her stomach. Her _stomach_?

Behind her, Mrs Potts ceased her panicked searching and hastily snatched a rag from the side of the counter-top before hurrying toward the girl, frantically dunking the rag into the bowl of water. With shaking hands, Mrs Potts wrung the wet rag out and then went to gently apply it to the girl's face, only to have her cringe away in pain. Jumping back as though afraid to injure the girl further, Mrs Potts lost her hold on the rag, and it landed on the floor with a soft splat.

"I'm so sorry! I'll get another one! Oh dear. We really should take you to the hospice Belle, you're covered in bruises and they-"

"Mrs Potts," Belle whispered, and I cringed at the sound of her voice. It was croaky and dry, nothing like the rich, sweet harmonies I was used to hearing from her. Belle reached out to steady the older woman's shaking hands, and the widow stared disparagingly down at her, thankfully not blocking my limited view of either of their faces. The fact that, even now, in her condition, she would attempt to soothe someone else, stunned me.

"You know they won't let me in there without his permission," Belle told her tiredly, her good eye staring up lifelessly.

WHAT!

The left side of Belle's face was completely black and blue, the ugly blotchy bruise receding all the way into her hairline. Surely, no one in the castle hospice would turn her away! She clearly needed medical care! What the hell did she mean they wouldn't let her in without his 'permission'?! Who the hell was HIM?

Mrs Potts seemed to understand the poor girl's insane words because she nodded sadly, her bottom lip trembling as though she were on the verge of tears. One quaking hand rose as though to caress the large disfigured mark on her face, but as Belle turned away, she seemed to snap out of her action. Patting the girl's hand awkwardly, Mrs Potts dipped down to retrieve the wet rag, and moved away to rinse it out before returning with the bright glowing candle still sitting on a plate, setting it down on the table almost directly behind her.

I put my hand over my mouth to cover an involuntary gasp.

It wasn't just her face, now that the light was better I could see what Mrs Potts had been referring to. Belle was _covered_ in bruises. Starting from her cheek, to her neck, going all the way down both arms until I was staring at her purple swollen wrists. What was it I was seeing here? She looked like she had been _beaten_ , but who would dare to do something so barbaric? How had this heinous person even gotten past the castle guards? How..?

"That will do."

 _No._

 _No, it couldn't be!_

Belle immediately tensed, her hands clenching on the fabric of her dress so tightly I was surprised the thing didn't tear in two. Every gaze in the room followed the sound of the voice, as, shrouded by darkness, Gaston stepped into the kitchen.

It can't have been! He knew better than to raise his hand to a woman! He had more honour than to hit something that couldn't hit back! My very blood boiled with rage and the same time the contents of my stomach threatened to expose itself all over the staff rooms floor.

 _Please tell me it's not true!_

I watched helplessly, paralyzed, as Mrs Potts moved to stand protectively in front of Belle, who still sat hunched over in fear and pain, completely unable to move.

"Please, Your Highness," Mrs Potts begged in a quivering voice, as Gaston stepped closer. "Leave the girl be, she's in enough pain, her injuries need attending to. Please just leave!" She pleaded, looking as unthreatening as I had ever seen anyone.

Gaston... ignored her. Stepping closer to Belle so all that stood between them was Mrs Potts, he glowered down at the servant. His face was set in stone, not surprised at all with the dreadful condition Belle was in... and that was all the damning confirmation I needed. Lifting himself to his fullest height, towering over the older woman he barked authoritatively, "It is not your place to dictate the actions of a prince woman, now stand aside."

His voice was hard and unfeeling, and Mrs Potts seemed to sag with the truth of his words. With her head down and totally defeated, she stepped back, and barely repressed a sob of her own when Gaston moved towards Belle. She stared up at him fearfully as he stooped, lifted her over his shoulder and carried her quietly from the room. Her facing his back, her arms dangling uselessly by her head; she didn't even try to struggle, she seemed completely exhausted.

Stunned in shock and disgusted disbelief, I watched Mrs Potts lower herself to the crate Belle had just been sitting and begin to cry. Great big ugly sobs racking the poor woman's body as she grieved for the fate of the injured young girl.

I, on the other hand, was to numb with shock to do anything but stand there.

What had I just seen? Had Gaston _really_ done that? Was he really _capable_ of something like that? I mean, I knew his argument with his father had made him angry but Belle's face...

 _Her face_...

It was more than I could hardly stand, seeing Belle like that. I didn't know the girl well, but the one thing I had come to appreciate above all else, was the way her eyes shone. To see her so utterly defeated that the light- light that shone brighter than any star- was completely extinguished... because of Gaston.

 _Gaston!_

How could he do that? Had my three years away really changed him _that_ much? What had my friend _become_?!

Sliding down the wall, I cradled myself on the hard floor and put my face in my hands. Listening to the harsh ragged sound of Mrs Potts' frantic sobbing I did something I hadn't done in years.

I cried.


	12. The Boiler Room

**Chapter Twelve - The Boiler Room**

 **.**

I hadn't seen Belle in nearly two weeks. For every meal I sat, every room I walked in, every servant I passed in the hall, I prayed for just a glimpse of her, but nothing.

I hadn't been able to get the sight of her beaten face out of my mind. Every time I closed my eyes I could see it, and the urge to replace that horrific image with a much more pleasant one, overtook me.

I had even tried to search her out, hovering near the servants' den, and the kitchen, and even the library, but so far, nothing.

Where _was_ she?

I hadn't spent any time with Gaston since it happened. He, of course, had no idea that I knew what he had done, and I knew that my avoidance was confusing him, but I could barely bring myself to look him in the eye. This whole thing went far past the obvious distaste that came with a royal beating a servant, this was something far more horrible. I couldn't even put a name to what I was feeling. It was as though several tons of lead had been dropped in my stomach, my eyes stung every time her image came to mind and the only time I could remember ever feeling this melancholy was when I was told my parents were dead.

I didn't understand.

I barely knew the girl. She should have meant nothing to me. She was a servant and I was a prince and I should have been able to put her out of my mind the moment she appeared, but somehow, she had dug her nails in, and was now refusing to leave. And with her invasion came a swarm of unfamiliar emotions that seized me the moment Mrs Potts had started crying.

I had listened to the devastating sound for hours. The hot wax of the candle had overflowed on the plate and the once proud bright glowing blaze dwindled to a suffocating flame before Mrs Potts finally composed herself enough to leave the room. I had waited until I knew she was gone before I picked myself up off the floor and walked hollowly to my room. Slouching on the bed, all I could think was, _how could he do it?_

He had been angry, when he had left the throne room, and there was no doubt in my mind that he must have been feeling somewhat inferior and powerless after being put in his place by the king. I could have told myself that he had only meant to relieve his frustration, and things had gotten out of hand, or that Belle must have done something to provoke him further and that was why he took his fury out on her... but no. Attempting to justify his action didn't make me feel any better about Gaston, it only made me feel _worse_ about _me_. There was no excuse, none. Most likely, he had been furious upon returning to his room and the poor girl had just been a convenient recipient of that anger. Remembering how exhausted the girl had appeared, the places her bruises had been, and how she had painfully clutched at her lower stomach made me think, that most likely, it wasn't just a beating the girl had suffered when my _friend_ chose to take his frustrations out on her. The thought made me sick, and again, I still didn't know why.

I had cried right alongside Mrs Potts that night and I _never_ cried. I hadn't even done so at my own parents funeral. But thinking about that beautiful girl's pain, pain she had most likely been enduring for a whole year, had made tear after tear escape my eyes until I was too drained to think about much of anything. I had determined that the next day I would find her, and confront her, and finally demand to know _what_ was keeping her here, but, of course, she was nowhere to be found. And so two weeks of torture had ensued.

It was the first of December, and I was walking through the grounds in an attempt to expel a lot of anger and confusion. The grounds of the castle were large and plentiful, with many gardens, ponds, and lots of open lands it was an ideal place to get some privacy. I _wanted_ to be alone. I didn't want to talk to anyone, but more accurately and sadly, I found there wasn't anyone _for_ me to talk to anymore. Every invitation Gaston had extended to me for jousting or horseback riding, or even drinking, had been met with a resounding, 'I'm busy.' I'd then take my leave to my room and lock myself in, not wanting him to know what was going on. He thought that I was simply cracking down on the problems with my kingdom, and I was more than content to let him think that, because I most definitely did not want him to know that his presence was making me sick.

The worst part of it all was that the next day, he had acted as if nothing was wrong. He obviously had no idea I had seen what he had done, but it was so much more than that. At the breakfast table, while I could barely stomach keeping a glass of water down, he was merrily eating and chatting with a member of his fathers' council. I could hardly fathom how he couldn't feel the merest scrap of guilt. Didn't it bother him? He was closer to the girl than I was, I'd wager he spent almost every night with her, and yet beating her so badly had no effect on him at all? It was a wonder that no one at the table noticed my disgust, especially when he called to me across the table to ask why I wasn't eating, and I didn't reply. I _couldn't_. I didn't _understand_.

Silas was nowhere to be seen, but as much as I would have liked to entertain fantasies about bringing this whole horrible affair to his attention, Silas had less regard for servants and peasants than his son. I knew he wouldn't care, and if it had merely been a member of his council who had done such a thing, I would have brought it to his attention anyway, just for the chance of seeing that person squirm. But Gaston was his son, and despite their differences, Silas would always take Gaston's side, no matter _what_ the issue.

So that left me entertaining myself with devastating questions that I was afraid would remain completely unanswered. Had this happened before? Why was she so scared of him? What was he using on her that made her behave so... weak? I was desperate to know, the question growing heavier in my mind every day, and it almost made me guilty for wishing I could use it against her the way Gaston was doing, because if it was so devastating that she would endure being beaten, being humiliated, being walked all over without putting up any resistance at all-

I tripped over my own feet, instinctively throwing my hand out to stop myself from crashing into the high bank I had been climbing. My frozen breath caught dead in my throat, and my eyes bulged from my face as I drunk in the sight of that pretty blue dress.

She was lying on the grass, her body facing away from me. A light breeze gently playing with a few strands of her hair as her fingers stroked a tall thread of grass. She was here.

I stood breathlessly, watching her, and my shortness of breath had almost nothing to do with the high bank I had just trekked up. I couldn't even see her face, and I was bewitched by her. The way the wind caressed her hair, the way her legs swung casually, tangling together in the air, the way her fingers coltishly played with one piece of grass... she captivated me. But I wanted to look at her face. I wanted to replace that one bad memory, so I foolishly called her name.

She jumped, launched clumsily to her feet and spun to face me. The look she ladened me with... it made me wish I had left her alone.

She looked scared. Scared of me. Why?

Her bruises had healed. The only sign of the beating she had taken was the slight discolouration of her left eye. The skin surrounding the melted chocolate pool a light stagnant yellow, bleeding into darker circles indicating a complete lack of rest. I wanted to take a look at the rest of her body but for the life of me, I couldn't pull my eyes away from her face.

She was staring at me like an animal stared down the barrel of a gun. Her eyes were wide, her nose was flaring and her mouth was frozen in a half pout. It looked like she was choking on the cold air. Why did she look scared of me?

And then... something changed.

Her pupils hardened. Her body locked down and her throat contracted as she swallowed harshly. She was facing off at me like she had Gaston two weeks ago, before she had been forced to submit to his tyranny. It was a mask I was looking at, not her. And I didn't like it.

"Your Majesty." She greeted me coolly.

I didn't understand why she was looking at me like that. Was she angry with me? I didn't do anything that night, all I had done was watch.

 _Maybe that's the problem. All you_ did _was_ watch _._

Even Mrs Potts had faced off against Gaston in her defence, and what had I done? I just stood there. I had hidden behind a door, I had hidden in that chair, even when I thought I should have called him out, I didn't.

It was rather humbling, as well as nauseating, that a feeble old woman had shown more courage than I had. I knew she didn't deserve to be treated that way, but I had done nothing. Because of what? Because he was my friend? Because he was better than her? Because he had a title and could do whatever he pleased? A month ago, I might have believed all of those excuses, but having watched her, having spoken to her, having seen her laid so low so unjustly... it was like it rocked the foundation of everything I had ever believed in. Seeing her again, after two long weeks of her absence, I realized... just how much Gaston's treatment of her had affected me. It was chilling.

So I simply stood there like an idiot, and stared.

I didn't know if it was my frozen body, my shocked manner or whatever kind of expression I had on my face, but for some reason, something about me made her guarded mask crumble. Her lovely lips parted and her brow scrunched as her head slightly tipped to the side.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Goodness only knew what I looked like to her, because right then and there I was more an animal awaiting death than she had been. I had been trained as strategically as an army general on how to handle stressful and difficult situations, and I couldn't even talk to a simple girl? But I had to shake my head at that thought at once, because this girl... this girl was _far_ from simple.

 _If there's a simple one out here it's you._

I wasn't going to disagree with that.

"Yes I'm...I'm..." My throat was parched, "I'm fine." I reassured her shakily. "How are you?" _Great question dumb-ass!_

She seemed to agree with my mentality because her thin brows shot up to her forehead, or perhaps my asking after her well-being was that unexpected that it took her a moment to recover. I hoped so, because _I_ most definitely needed it.

"I'm fine." She lied guardedly, still staring at me suspiciously. It had to be a lie. There was no way she was simply 'fine.' With how standoffish she was behaving I would take a guess that she hadn't wanted to be interrupted today. She had wanted to be alone, and I had ruined her tranquillity, but I couldn't help it. It felt like forever since she had graced my sight. A few weeks ago I would have relished her absence, but now it was torture.

"I haven't seen you around in a while," I eloquently stammered, "where have you been?"

She looked so confused, but to be honest, I hadn't a clue what I was doing either.

"I've been busy," she answered me quickly, _too_ quickly. Her heart-shaped face twitched ever so slightly, and I knew why. She was lying.

"Busy doing what?" I asked sceptically. I would have called her out on her dishonesty, but I hardly thought I was in a position to be labelling anyone as a coward today.

Her reply was short, but not sweet at all. "Serving the prince," she said.

I could have cringed, but restrained myself. Finally bringing my gaze away from her face, I frantically assessed her well-being. Her dress was wrinkled and lightly stained with a green tinge from where she had been laying on the grass, but the rest of her seemed... fine. Her sleeves were rolled up, even in the cold, and her arms looked perfectly healed. No more finger-shaped blotches tarnishing the rosy skin, no more purple wrists, no more sickly pale colour. She _did_ look fine, but she _didn't_ look happy.

 _When has she_ ever _looked_ happy _with you?_

She didn't seem to appreciate my scrutiny, and nervously rolled her sleeves back down her arms, shielding them from sight. Hugging into herself protectively, she squirmed in place and murmured, "If that's all Your Majesty, may I please be excused?"

Her request stunned me. Of all the times we had been in the same room together, of the three we had even been completely alone, she had _never_ asked my permission to leave my company. It's what servants were supposed to do, I remembered, and it was only polite, to _wait_ to be dismissed, but I didn't know what to make of her doing so for the first time. I knew one thing though... I didn't like it.

She was behaving completely shut off and cold. What had been happening these last two weeks? It was as though she had vanished from the face of the earth, when in reality, the answer to her absence had always been a very simple one. Gaston must have been keeping her cooped up in his room. Whether for some sick additional punishment or his reluctance to have anyone see the damage he had done. But going on only her reply, all I could think was, _I hope he didn't hurt her more._

Physically, she looked satisfactory, but emotionally, mentally... she seemed... short-changed.

In the midst of my confusion, I knew one thing for absolute certain... she did _not_ want to be around me right now.

I didn't want to let her but... with the way I had failed her two weeks ago, I at least owed it to her to give her something that she wanted.

I was shocked at the throwaway thought. I had _failed_ her.

"You may..." I consented hesitantly, but when she curtsied and went to turn away, I stammered, "If you'll do something for me."

Her gaze snapped to mine immediately, and I could see clear as day that she was both fearful and angry.

"What would that be, Your Majesty?" She asked almost snidely.

"Call me Adam."

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 _...Yielding of an average of 2.5 franc increase per calendar month. Fruit and vegetable shipments from Blé decreased an average of 15.8 percent per calendar month due to lack of crop yielding. Exchange of silks from the western countries averaging at a 4.6 increase per calendar month. Market..._

… _Exchange of tea leaves increasing by 0.8 francs per week per pound. Exchange of steel from Pierre decreasing margin by approximately 3.8 percent per pound due to lack of yielding and Ingénieur first rights to purchase..._

 _...Pork and Beef shipment exchange decreased by 10.8 per calendar month due to lack of yield. Fish..._

Blah blah blah blah blah...

All of these letters from my council were _exactly_ the same. This is increasing in cost, that is decreasing in cost, those are short of this, this is short of that, almost two hundred letters of the exact same bullshit. While travelling overseas I had had some of my assistants looking over the letters for me, ordering them to inform me of anything important or substantial that might actually affect me in any way, but they never had, and now I wasn't exactly left wondering why. Yes, crops were short, we were in the middle of fucking winter! Yes, the demand for furs and silks were rising, it was fucking _cold_! I didn't _need_ to be told all of this bullshit! It was complete jargon, all of it! How was I supposed to miraculously pull proof of the deceitfulness of my court out of all of this rubbish?

Tossing the letter to the floor with the mountain of other crap, I rubbed my temples and moaned. How was this taking so bloody long? I had been locked in here for days now, only coming out for meals, and had been completely focused on pushing myself into this task, but it felt like the more work I did the more I had left to do. I was certain it was supposed to work the _other_ way. I honestly had no idea how my father managed to do this _every single day_. Looking at the large stack of neatly folded paper, I honestly felt like tossing the whole lot of it in the fire, scrapping my plans to find proof and riding the fastest horse to my kingdom to dismiss the whole damn lot of them.

Of course, that would mean leaving early...

It had been a few days since my awkward encounter with Belle. When I had told her to stop referring to me by title and instead by name, she had been reluctant, but I had insisted. We had walked away from each other with a rather uneasy truce, to say the least, but I wasn't second guessing my decision. I wanted her to call me by my name. I wanted her to see that I didn't think myself better than her, at least, not as much as before. But most of all, I just wanted to hear how it sounded leaving those luscious pink lips. Hear the way her sweet gentle harmonies caressed my name.

But she denied me.

She had agreed, albeit somewhat forced, and walked away from me without a second glance.

It angered me, I wasn't going to lie, but I forced myself to push it aside. Old habits died hard I guess, and I may have learned an important lesson, but I was still... me.

I was frustrated with myself for how I had handled the situation. All the questions I had planned to attack her with had been completely forgotten once I looked at her face. It was something of a disgrace to be brought so low by someone I knew so little, but oddly enough, that kind of attitude wasn't evoking anger directed at her anymore, it only made me _internalize_ that anger.

 _If your problem is that you don't know her... then_ get _to know her._

I was ready, I was prepared, I was focused. But I knew that before I embarked on the difficult task of developing some kind of relationship with a servant, I would have to deal with my kingdom first. It was a problem I could no longer avoid, and with new letters reaching me every few days, I had to do something. I was ready to take on this responsibility and knock this funk of failure out of my system... and then this happened. Piles and piles of rubbish.

And it all just started blending together. I was even seeing black ink behind my eyelids as I slept, it was getting so bad.

Looking tiredly at the clock, I saw that it was indeed _that_ time of night again. Reaching over to blow out the candle burning brightly on my desk, I staggered over to the large bed and fell ungracefully into it, praying that the next dream I had didn't centre around being buried under a mountain of mail.

I got my wish, but not by choice.

Having felt like I had barely laid my head down on my pillow, I bolted right back up again when the sound of loud banging followed by frantic yells of 'Your Majesty!" Barraged my skull.

Cringing, I tiredly turned to look at the clock, the fuzz of sleep making my eyes water as I squinted through the darkness. Thanks to the early morning light shining through the window, I could just about read that it was almost five in the morning. Why did I wake up so damn early? I was just about to lie back down and correct the problem, when the banging began again. It wasn't a dream!

Shooting out of bed, I hurriedly rushed to dress before running to the door. Throwing it open, I was very confused to find there was no one behind it. Was it a dream? Had I imagined it? Was I..?

"Your Majesty!" A high-pitched voice squealed. I jumped a foot in the air and turned my head to see a small man banging on Gaston's door, looking desperate and fearful while covered in black soot.

The dirty man once again raised his hand to frantically pound on the door, barely choking a, "Your Maj-" before the door flew open.

"What do you want?!" Gaston growled, looking dishevelled and sleepy in nothing but a pair of wrinkled breeches he had worn the day before.

The servant was terrified. Staring up at the imposing figure of his prince, he stuttered. "The machine in the b-b-boiler room sire, it's malfunctioning! No one can seem to figure out what's wrong! W-w-we need B-B-Belle!"

 _WHAT?!_

"Oh for the love of... Belle!" Gaston shouted, turning back to face his room, where she and he had most likely been sleeping together. She appeared at the door almost at once, and I gaped at the sight of her; rumpled hair, exposed legs, dressed only in a shirt I knew belonged to Gaston. I dismissed the bile that rose in my throat and concentrated on what was happening.

"What's..?" Belle, voice thick with sleep and confusion, was about to ask, when the servant hurriedly interrupted her.

"The woodcutter in the boiler room, it's malfunctioning! It's putting too much wood in the fire too fast and if we don't stop it the whole castle will go up in flames!" He yelled.

I stepped out of my room and hurried over just in time to see Belle's face go from confused to shocked and alarmed; she clearly understood more of what was going on than I did. She made a move to step out of the room - I guessed to join the servant - when Gaston's hand shot out, preventing her escape.

"Get dressed first!" He snarled at her, clearly not pleased with her state of undress. The shirt she was in was obviously much too big for her, and came down to her knees, but it was still a scandalous amount of skin on display, not to mention anyone looking at her would know she was wearing his clothing, though why that would bother him I had no idea.

"There's no time!" The servant wailed, only to cower at the deadly look he received from the prince.

"Gaston, please!" Belle cried, looking up at him pleadingly, clearly worried for the continued panic of the servant who was practically hyperventilating. Gaston turned his glare upon her once more, but surprisingly, her distress seemed to get through to him. With a petulant huff, he removed his arm from the door-sill, "Fine, let's just go then." He grumbled and slammed the door behind him.

We quickly hurried behind the frantic servant as he ran through the halls. I still had no idea what was going on, but with the servant's worried words about the castle going 'up in flames' still ringing in my ears, I had to think that the castle was in real danger right now. I hadn't been to the boiler room in years, and as such, had no idea what he was talking about when he said 'machine.'

I wanted to ask someone what was happening, but the faster we all ran, the harder it became to breathe let alone talk. Racing down a labyrinth of stairs, we reached the kitchens level to see a small crowd of servants hovering around the door that led down to the boiler room. It was literally the pit of the castle, the only place lower than this room was the sewers.

"Move!" Gaston bellowed, and all the servants hastened to flatten themselves against the walls as the four of us ran past. We tore down the dark stairwell only to be met with a sight I would not have anticipated in a million years.

There, in the centre of what I remembered to be the dark, hot boiler room, was a huge spasming machine. It had a large shiny copper body covered in levers and buttons, on the left there were thick metal hands that were swinging themselves around in a frenzy, grabbing onto chunk after chunk of stacked wood before throwing it all into the mouth of the machine. From inside the quaking thing I could see knives and something that even looked like a machete, expertly cutting through the large logs, shredding it to pieces before spitting it back out onto what looked to be, a _moving table_ , which quickly dumped the wood into the humongous furnace that was roaring blistering heat and eye-searing fire. What I was seeing was possibly one of the most genius inventions I had ever laid eyes on. And it was causing utter chaos. The logs were being cut too fast, too many pieces of wood being hurled into the fire to quickly. The servant had been right to panic, the fire looked a minute from escaping the furnace and setting the rest of the room ablaze. This was a disaster!

With a panicked face, Belle bolted into action. Every man who was crowding the mighty machine - I guessed in an attempt to stop it from doing any further harm - hastily stepped aside as this little girl rushed straight for the hundreds of buttons and levers. A horn at the top of the contraption was screaming steam like the shrill squeal of a boiling kettle, but all I was really hearing was the sound of my own frenzied heartbeat as I watched Belle frantically run towards the machine, pulling lever after lever and pressing button after button.

What was she doing? Did she even _know_ what she was doing? Why wasn't anyone helping her? How could they all expect her to be able to fix this on her own? I cast my eyes desperately around the room, but no one was doing anything, every sweat covered man was simply standing there and watching. I could feel the sweat beginning to run down my own forehead and saturate the cotton of my shirt, it was so suffocatingly hot. I felt like I was breathing in fire. Awful memories of the last time I was in this room flashed before my mind and nearly brought me to my knees, but I fought to stay conscious, wanting more than anything to make sure Belle got out of this alive.

Hearing a loud bang, I snapped my head up only to realize I could no longer see Belle. Before even considering my actions, I was charging around the room, careful of the hectic metal hands that were flailing uncontrollably, just to ensure I kept her in my sight. To my relief, Belle was standing rather close - having run around the mad creation without my notice - a large square of metal lying at her feet. Before I could think to regain my drowning breath enough to ask what she was doing, Belle dropped to the ground and stared into the dark hole she had just created. Whatever she saw inside it shocked her, her eyes widening to an almost comical size. Turning her head to frantically search for something, her eyes landed on me.

"Give me your shirt!" She ordered, holding her hand out for it in a panic.

"What?" I questioned slowly, the heat clearly affecting me more than it was her.

"Just do it!" She demanded angrily, as though I were an infuriating child. Not wanting to be looked at like that another second, I quickly shed the shirt off my back and handed it to her, watching with confusion as she wrapped the material around her hand, and then horror as she proceeded to stick her hand into the machine.

I think I screamed her name, but I wasn't certain. It all happened too fast, and then I was right behind her, ready to yank her shoulder out so she didn't end up losing an arm.

 _What is she thinking? What is she doing?!_

I was just about to grab her, and pull her away from the screeching, shaking, dangerous device when...everything stopped. The loud blaring died almost immediately, filling the room with a stunned silence. The impressive metallic hands, that had been grabbing and throwing wood haphazardly into the blade infested inner machine froze mid-action, and the large metal body quaked a second more before it all went still. I took a step back, staring at the blaze in the furnace crackle before beginning to burn out almost at once, no longer spitting fire like the tongue of an angry animal. Turning back to Belle, I watched as she withdrew her hand still wrapped in my shirt, only to see her holding something bloody between her covered fingers. I almost retched.

Staggering awkwardly to her feet, she held the thing up in her hands, studying it thoughtfully before her eyes swept around the awe-filled room. She turned an even deeper red, bit into her dry bottom lip and called almost casually, "A rat got trapped in the fan."

I wasn't surprised that the noise that followed was the thundering claps of over thirty odd men.

I couldn't help but stare at her with surprise and pride as she blushed and smiled weakly, wiping the line of sweat off her forehead. It was astounding, that even like this, I still found her beautiful.

And then the celebratory bubble was popped when a powerful new voice yelled, "What is going on here?"

The clapping ceased immediately, and everyone turned towards the voice as the imposing figure of the king filled the large doorway. Every man got down on one knee, including myself, but as I looked over at Belle, I saw that she had tensed, her eyes locked on the king. She looked... completely terrified. What was _that_ about?

"Everyone, back to work!" Silas ordered forcefully, sending every grown man scurrying from the crowded boiler room like they were not but a pack of vermin. Belle made to follow behind, but to my surprise, Silas called her out. "Not you!" He barked at her, confronting her with an imposing stare that had the girl quaking at the knees. She froze near the door, and to my great surprise, Gaston moved to stand directly behind her, almost as though he were asserting himself as her protector.

"Explain!" Silas ordered the room.

I'm sure we all looked quite a sight.

Here we were, two princes and a servant, all of us half dressed, Belle still clutching that dead mutilated rodent in a shirt I knew I'd never _ever_ be wearing again, Gaston and myself both covered in sweat from where the fire had been blazing out of control... Yes, I'm sure we all looked our absolute _finest_.

Silas must have obviously awoken from the ruckus of the servants, but it was clear he didn't quite know where to begin understanding the situation at hand. I didn't know about Gaston, but I was feeling pretty embarrassed right about now.

"The machine broke down. We fixed it." Gaston said quickly, clearly trying to play down what had been a near-disastrous situation. Silas narrowed his eyes at his half-naked son, then switched his gaze to Belle's hand.

"What is that?" He asked, his refined face crinkling as though he smelled something foul. Belle opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Gaston was quick to intercede. "It's a rat." He told the king shortly.

"Gaston!" Silas snapped, glaring at his son menacingly. "Let the girl talk." He ordered firmly.

Belle's eyes widened, her throat constricted as she swallowed and her knees began to buck. I was oddly mesmerized by the display before me, having no idea what to make of it. I knew Silas could be scary when he wanted to be, particularly to those of lesser rank, but the way Belle was behaving...

From where I was standing I saw Gaston actually place his hand on the small of her back, as if the subtle gesture would comfort her. And surprisingly, shockingly... it seemed to work. Belle took a deep breath and stepped towards the king, holding her hand out to him.

"It's a rat, Your Majesty. It must have climbed into the machine while it was off at night and no one checked it before they turned it on. It clogged the fan and made it overheat." She told him with barely a hint of a stutter. Silas studied the dead animal in the girl's hand and then turned his attention towards the machine, observing it thoughtfully. Looking back at the girl, he said blandly, "Perhaps it was a design error."

Belle blanched, bringing her other hand to clutch at her heart as she let out a short, raggedly painful gasp.

 _What the..?_

Why such an intense reaction to such throwaway words? A few weeks ago, I would have characterized that kind of reaction as fear, but with how much I was rapidly learning about the girl, I could tell that his words hadn't caused fear... it had caused anger. For some unexplainable reason, the king's words had severely offended Belle, and as I watched her trying to compose herself, I prayed in my heart of hearts that she wasn't about to do or say anything stupid. I was just about to jump in, when astonishingly, it was _Gaston_ who came to her rescue.

"Father," He said warningly, taking a step in front of the quaking girl as though to shield her from the powerful man's penetrating gaze. Silas switched his focus to Gaston.

"The only one at fault here is the fucker who forgot how to do his job and didn't check the damn machine before it was turned on. It's perfect now, as you can see. All thanks to _her_ , I might add." He declared, looking behind him at Belle's startled form, with _pride_ shining in his eyes.

Belle looked just as confused as I was in that moment.

"I see." The king said levelly, running his hand over the shiny metal. "Then I suppose, we are all quite _lucky_ you were here girl." He turned to look her over one last time, and she seemed twice as shocked at having received two backhanded compliments from two men it was clear she was fearful of.

I had no fucking clue what was happening right now.

I sensed that there was something far deeper going on here than a simple machine malfunction. Why was Belle the only one capable of fixing it? How did that flustered servant know that coming to fetch Belle was the right thing to do? And why did Belle seem so offended when Silas had blamed the machine for the disruption. There was something far darker than I had once believed festering in the halls of this castle, and for whatever reason, this one servant girl seemed to be in the centre of it all. How much really involved her though, was something I was clearly going to have to figure out on my own.

"Well, I think that's enough excitement for so early in the morning. Breakfast won't be served for another few hours yet, so why don't you boys head on back to bed?" He told Gaston and me, looking between the pair of us in obvious distaste. The state of my undress came back to mind with a wicked vengeance, and I was desperate to get out of there before _I_ started blushing.

Gaston nodded to his father and took hold of Belle's elbow, preparing to steer her from the room, when the king's voice rang out again, "Oh and girl," He said casually, drawing the two gazes back to him, "I'll be sure to fire the person responsible for checking the machine in the morning, and make it perfectly clear to him that a slave-girl can do a better job."

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I needed to fucking scream.

I was so confused. I was even more confused _now_ then I had been last night, and for all that confusion to fester in the boiler room...

I had locked myself down there once as a child. Gaston and I had been playing a game, and my goal was to hide. We had been playing for hours and I thought that the one place he wouldn't think to find me was somewhere I had never been before. The boiler room was the dregs of the castle, at the very bottom of a dark, dusty, depressing stairwell, there sat a room stocked with thousands of logs of wood, most of which stayed down there to provide food for the massive beast that burned far too hot for anyone to stand for long. I was sure I couldn't even name half of the things the servants used all that power for, but it was an inferno down there. I had foolishly chosen the room to hide in - sneaking past a group of burly men relentlessly chopping and shoving logs into the flames - I had hidden within the large pile of haphazardly stacked logs. The room was full of wood, so I had thought it would be a great place to hide. Unfortunately, I had not taken into account how hot it would get, and being so unused to that kind of blazing heat, within only a few minutes, I had lost consciousness.

I had awoken two days later in the castle hospice, an elderly nurse by my bedside to explain to me, in simple terms, what had happened. My father had come to visit later in the night, and in traditional kingly fashion, had scolded me on my stupidity and ordered me never to do anything so foolish again. I had been stuck in the hospice bed for another five days, still completely ignorant to just how close to death I had come. I hadn't exactly understood the concept of 'severe dehydration' as a child, but I did know that I felt weak, and terrified at the prospect of ever venturing down there again.

I had never even been told who had found me, even though I knew it had to be a servant. One of those burly, uneducated, unsophisticated men had most likely pulled my unconscious body from the large stack of wood, and I was only being realistic when I thought of how unlikely it was that the stranger had even received a thank you.

I hadn't thought about it in years, as I'd simply pushed the horrible memory to the back of my mind, but now... it was all starting to resurface.

Everything had been the same down there; same blistering heat, same heavy suffocating air, same loud bangs of metal chopping wood. But then, like everything else I had experienced since coming back here, while the little things were the same, it was one _huge_ thing that appeared to have altered _everything_.

I thought I knew. I was sure I had it all figured out. Gaston wanted Belle. Belle didn't want Gaston. Gaston was mean to Belle. Belle was here under duress. I had it all calculated in my mind, but after seeing them tonight, it was all up in the air again.

I had been completely shocked by Gaston's behaviour, even more so now that I had had a chance to calm down and cool off. He had stuck up for her, defended her against his father, even stopped her from having an outburst before the king. And she was _grateful_ to him for it, I could tell. Remembering the gentle way he had touched her back, and how she appeared to gain strength from that... it stumped me. She was supposed to hate him, but that wasn't what I saw tonight.

Tonight, they had been a united force, and on Silas's parting words, Gaston had seemed just as furious as I had been.

Silas...

There was definitely something tricky happening in this family. Gaston had never been so disrespectful to his father than he had been since I got back, and seeing it tonight, I realized, that the one similarity between both instances, had been Belle. In the throne room, Gaston didn't begin acting erratically until after Silas had brought Belle into it, and this morning, Gaston had stood against his father in defence of Belle, even though I had no idea how something like a machine malfunctioning could have been considered _her_ fault.

It's true, Gaston's behaviour was unpredictable where the girl was concerned but... was it possible that he actually had... _feelings_ for her? I had thought he was simply enticed by her beauty, that he was drawn to it so much he kept her around far longer than he had any other girl, but the way he was behaving, it seemed impossible for me not to consider the possibility that... he...

 _No. No, he_ couldn't _be. He had_ beaten _her, don't you remember! She had looked_ terrified _of him that night, and goodness only knows what he had been doing to her for the two weeks she was missing! No, there was absolutely no_ fucking _way!_

As for Silas, well, he had acted most peculiar this morning also. While it wasn't uncommon for him to disrespect or disregard servants all together, at the last minute it seemed that he had gone out of his way to insult her. What could he possibly have against a mere servant girl? Was it just Gaston's involvement with her, or was it something else entirely?

 _Gods, you're gone for three years and just look at the world you return to. What fucking madness!_

I thought it was safe to assume that I wasn't getting any sleep tonight.


	13. The Little Maid

**Chapter Thirteen -** **The Little Maid**

 **.**

I missed my horse. My good old boy, by the name of Roi, was over 30 years old. He couldn't really run anymore, was too old to ride, and spent most of his days sleeping away in his stalls. But I still preferred him over this death trap.

Trying to rein in a horse whom I suspected had yet to be properly broken was damn near impossible. Even with my experience on the back of the mighty animals, this guy was spirited and willful, flying through the wind without taking any direction and constantly trying to buck me off. It was only my strength and training tactics that got me back from the run alive.

Lifting myself off the animal, I scowled as it whined and stomped at the dirt with its hooves, as though indignant about being saddled with me in the first place.

Why wasn't anyone listening to me anymore? It felt like this horse was just one more creature that point blank refused to show me any respect. Yet despite the beast's defiant nature, the run through the grounds had helped. The wind thundering through my ears, the deafening speed, the adrenalin of attempting to tame something so free. All of it had helped ease the sleepless night that had ailed me.

I was still so confused by what had happened last night: the mystery, the odd behaviour, the unanswered questions; it was all piling up, and it only got worse once I had finally made it back to my bedchamber.

 _After watching Gaston pull Belle angrily from the boiler room, I gave them a small head start before following behind. Dragging my feet, I closed my door and immediately charged for my balcony, desperate for the cool early morning air to soothe my overheated body. Letting out a sigh of relief as the cold hit me, I slumped exhaustedly onto the balcony's ledge and looked over the still quiet peaceful land of the kingdom stretched before me._

 _Brilliant, a perfect counterpart to my mood._

 _Hearing a small squeak, I jumped in surprise and spun only to be confronted with a very odd sight indeed. Shrouded in the darkness of the early morning, a few balconies away from mine, stood Gaston and Belle. Well, Gaston was standing, Belle, however, was sitting perched dangerously on the_ _balcony's ledge._ _Her arms were around Gaston's neck, and his hands were clasping her tiny waist. Wanting to observe them without interruption, I quickly retreated into the shadows. Squinting through the darkness, I could only see half of Belle and the back of Gaston's head, but I could tell Belle looked confused and concerned; from her current position or whatever it was Gaston was saying to her though, I didn't know. They were speaking to softly for me to hear them clearly - despite the silence of the night - so all I could hear was the deep baritone of his voice._

 _Staying absolutely still, I watched as whatever Gaston was saying to her, appeared to have an adverse effect. Her large shimmering eyes suddenly filled with tears, and I could do nothing but stand there uselessly as Gaston removed one of his hands from her waist and used his thumb to wipe her tears away. His long black hair concealed any emotion I might have found on his face at that moment, but I knew for a fact that the sight of her tears was none too pleasant for me. I only grew more confused as Belle slowly removed her hands from his neck and ran the back of her fingers over his bare chest. More mumbling, and then she nodded weakly, her face set in a morose frown, big brown eyes still watering. Gaston's hands travelled from her waist to her backside, and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her back to his room with her legs wrapped around his waist and her head resting calmly on his chest._

Gods they were confusing, the pair of them. One moment Belle behaved as though she were completely adverse to him, and the next she was taking comfort in him. And Gaston, one moment he was behaving towards her like I had seen him too all other women before; as though their thoughts and feelings were completely inconsequential and all that mattered was what he could get out of them. And then...

I sighed heavily, shaking off the uncomfortable weight I had resting on my chest. It was odd for me to consider the possibility that Gaston thought of Belle as more than just a bed partner, what with the way he treated her. But then, what would I know of such things? I had only ever loved once, and it had been a lie. A manipulation of childish thoughts and emotions. I knew less about true love then anyone I'd wager, and if I knew Gaston as well as I had always believed I did, such a feeling would be just as foreign to him.

Still, the possibility that Gaston had actual _feelings_ for her was simply absurd. People like us didn't love. Did we?

Huffing in frustration, I grabbed the reins of the defiant horse and begrudgingly stumped back to the stalls, only to stop dead upon hearing familiar voices chatting away inside.

"... don't know if Gaston will let me, Lumière, he's very... _fond_... of spending our evenings together. I just don't want to take the chance of angering him if I ask." Belle's worried voice drifted through the large barn doors, enticing me with her words and the mystery behind them.

"Oh come on Belle, you have to at least try! Marybeth is just a few more hours from delivering! It's going to happen tonight, I can just feel it. You yourself told me you always wanted to hold a foal, I just don't want you to miss it!" Lumière's annoying voice joined Belle's past the door, grating on my senses. Wonderful, they were together again.

The consequential silence that followed had me imagining what Belle must have looked like at that moment. Were her teeth worrying her lovely bottom lip like they did when she was nervous? Was her forehead scrunched in as if she was thinking too hard about something? Were her fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress?

Then it occurred to me, why _am_ I imagining?

I shouldn't have felt the need to hide from her anymore. I knew that my idea to ignore her wasn't going to work out the way I had planned, and strangely, after what Gaston had done to Belle, I no longer felt like I was betraying him by attempting to get closer to her.

The way they had behaved so unitedly yesterday had rocked me, I'll admit. But he still hurt her. He still terrorised her and he still imprisoned her. It wasn't just me wondering where she had been that whole time, I remembered Mrs Potts' face stuck in a permanent mask of worry for the two weeks she had been gone. It was really the only thing that kept me from gathering the guts to actually go and ask her if she had seen or heard from Belle, that constant look. She was generally a very cheerful person, a cheeriness that I had seen her reclaim now that Belle was better, and I hoped that Gaston didn't say or do anything to her for being the only (known) witness to what he had done.

I still had no idea what to think about Gaston doing something like that, but I knew one thing; even if Belle had forgiven him – which was the only explanation I could think of to how they had both behaved in the boiler room – I no longer felt the need to honour the promise I had made to back off of Belle for Gaston's sake. And it wasn't just about the possibility of eventually getting her into my bed, which, make no mistake, I was still tremendously anticipating. It was also about getting to _know_ her.

She intrigued me, everything about her. Her kindness, her generosity, her inherent goodness. Who else would forgive someone who treated them so badly? _Who else_ would put themselves at risk to help a group of servants knowing they would face punishment if they were caught? Certainly none of the girls _I_ had ever known, and all this I knew without actually _knowing_ her at all. There was nothing holding me back now, and I was tired of hiding from her. She might not like what she saw in me but... I knew I wanted to see more of her.

And not just in the biblical sense.

Puffing out my chest, I gave the reins a small tug and walked as confidently as possible into the stables. It was difficult for me to do since it smelled absolutely horrid in there, and I was constantly watching my step to ensure I didn't ruin my shoes with any animal crap, but I felt as though I managed it.

Lumière was the first to spot me, as Belle was standing in the opposite direction, once again grooming a light brown stallion while gently rubbing around the horse's ears and face.

"Your Majesty!" Lumière said startled, which was stupid considering _he_ was the one who had helped me saddle the damn nefarious horse in the first place. He _had_ to have expected me back at _some_ time. The little idiot.

Surprised, Belle spun and her face went from shocked and surprised to relieved. Her relief would have made me feel great if it had more to do with seeing _me_ and less to do with not being who I knew she had expected me to be.

"Your Majesty." She greeted me cordially, tipping her skirt and bowing her head. I wanted to remind her about our agreement to call me by my name, but before I could do so, Lumière's bothersome voice cut in front of me.

"I see you got Titan back in one piece. Congratulations, Your Majesty, you're the first person to ride him without looking like you were caught in a tornado! He didn't give you to much trouble did he?" The annoying boy asked innocently, smiling like he had no idea he sent me off on a death trap. I would have snarled at him, but with Belle stood right there, I wasn't exactly eager to admit I couldn't control the beast.

"He was fine." I lied shortly, handing over his reins and watching the boy pull the stubborn creature away to his stall. I hoped the thing kicked him.

Returning my attention to Belle, I realised she had gone back to brushing out the mane of the large horse, cold puffs of air releasing from her mouth as she quietly shifted from foot to foot, either from trying to keep herself warm or because she sensed my penetrating gaze on her back.

She was dressed differently today. I was actually surprised to see that her attire looked a lot more expensive then I was used to her adorning. In a silky, beautifully embroidered red dress and a matching red and white fur coat, the whole ensemble looked far to clean and lavish to be a hand-me-down. I wondered if Gaston was behind this new look of hers because I couldn't imagine anyone else in her life having the kind of means it would take to purchase something so extravagant. It suited her, I realised, but I also thought that it was pretty hilarious. The clothing Belle was adorning must have cost a small fortune, and yet the girl was wearing such attire in a smelly musky barn in the company of animals. She really _was_ something.

Thinking about expensive clothing led me to thoughts of my ruined shirt from last night. I didn't really care, I had several dozen just like it, but I wasn't above using it as an excuse to start a conversation with her.

"So... am I to expect the servants to return my shirt later today? You _did_ send it to be laundered did you not?" I asked in a pretentious tone of voice, hoping secretly she wouldn't realize the desperate means I was willing to stoop just to get a reaction out of her.

She spun to face me, her eyes near popping out of her head as she looked at me with panic.

 _Well, you wanted a reaction._

"I'm... I'm so sorry Your Majesty! Gaston... I mean, his majesty, he... the rat was still wrapped inside it and he... I mean I take full responsibility, I..."

"Belle, calm down." I chuckled, unable to help myself. Watching her all flustered just made me want to smile. She never pretended to be something she wasn't. Everything she was was always laid out on the table. It was extremely refreshing.

She gazed back at me, her mouth frozen open somewhere between confusion and bewilderment. I smiled at her, shaking my head. She was too much.

"The shirt is of no consequence. I have a hundred just like it. Don't get yourself all worked up over nothing." I lightly scolded, amused as she closed her mouth and then narrowed her eyes at me. Giving me her full attention, she asked in a stunned voice, "You were... joking?"

That did it. Without even meaning to, I erupted. Great unflattering belts of laughter tore through my mouth as I looked at her flabbergasted expression. I didn't know what to make of her surprise, but I did know the look on her face was funny as hell.

"You... you act like you've never heard a joke before!" I wheezed, hard laughter ripping through me as I tried my hardest to breathe. "The look on your face..." I gasped, holding my chest, trying to ease the pleasant pain. I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed so hard.

When I had finally calmed down enough to get some air into my lungs, I realised she was staring at me like I was some strange undiscovered specimen, but the look of confusion was shadowed by the smallest hint of a smile. She looked away, a delightful blush staining her creamy cheeks and I couldn't help but gaze at the quirk of her soft looking lips.

 _I'd give just about anything to know what those lips taste like._

"Apologise for that," I coughed, rubbing my chest where the pain still lingered.

"Would you like some water?" She asked me politely, still watching me cautiously, but to my pride, her smile remained.

I coughed again, practically cradling my own lungs. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." I replied, not even stopping to contemplate how odd it was that I had just apologised, and said 'thank you', in the space of one minute. Not to mention how uncivilised that performance of mine just was. I would have felt incredibly embarrassed for my outburst, but she was smiling at me.

"So... your not angry, about the shirt? I realise I could have been politer when I asked for it, but the situation..."

I held up my hand to stop her, taking a comfortable step closer. "Belle, it's alright, really. I meant it when I said that I have hundreds just like it, and I would have much rather that machine have shredded my shirt then taken a portion of your hand. You were smart to ask for it, especially in such stressful circumstances. I was only jesting. There's no need to worry."

And then, her smile changed. The most peculiar expression came upon her face as she tilted her head to the side, her eyes wide and gleaming. I knew she must have been confused, I had met her in several different circumstances and all of them I had behaved differently. I was quite sure she had no idea what to make of me, but that I perceived as a good thing. I had made a lot of mistakes where she was concerned, I just hoped I'd be able to figure out a way to make up for it.

Those strange thoughts made me stop short. _Make up for it?_ What did I have to _make up_ for? I had treated a great many other people far worse and had never once thought to _make up_ for my actions. What an absurd thought to even entertain! Trying to cover my own embarrassment, I blurted the first thing that came to my mind.

"What? Hasn't anyone ever joked with you before?"

She gave me a half shrug of her shoulder, "Of course they have... just not royalty."

"I'm surprised. Gaston's always been fond of a good laugh. Doesn't _he_ make jokes?" I asked casually, not stopping to think of my stupidity until the words had tumbled out of my mouth. Her face instantly soured, a dark shadow replacing the sweet smile she had been adorning. "Not with me he doesn't." She murmured sullenly, looking down at her shoes.

 _Idiot! Why would you even mention him after what he did to her?_ Scrambling for something to say to get that smile back, I was once again unceremoniously interrupted.

"Gee, that horse is a fighter! He almost killed me!"

 _If only._

Belle giggled at the boy's comment, and I watched in quiet fury as she walked towards him and helped him straighten out his rumpled clothes, which were haphazard and twisted after his apparent wrestle to get the horse back in his stall.

"You should be gentler with him," She lightly scolded, reaching up to brush his dishevelled hair away from his sweaty face, "Free spirits like him don't like to be challenged."

"Don't I know it," The boy replied, running his hand through the long hair Belle had just adjusted for him, fixing it back into a messy ponytail. "I almost don't want to break him. He's the kind of soul who belongs in the wild," He murmured almost sadly, as though he sympathised with the creature.

I wanted to scoff at him. He was talking about the horse as though the animal had feelings. As though it knew the difference between being free and being broken. It would live a good life here; be well fed, receive regular medical attention and be given powerful mares to breed with. I had no doubt that Silas must have paid a fair amount of gold for a horse with that much speed and power, so it would receive exceptional care, instead of competing for mates and territory as it would have in the wild.

I opened my mouth to list these facts, wanting the boy to know just how stupid he really was, when...

"Yeah, poor guys gonna have it rough here. A spirit that powerful was never meant to be enslaved. I just hope he survives the training." Belle said, just as sadly, rubbing the downhearted boy's hand consolingly.

 _Oh, of_ course _, she would agree with him! Would it kill her to take_ my _side, just once?!_

My chest burned with jealousy as I watched her comfort him. She gazed up at the boy affectionately and he stared down with the exact same fondness. I didn't like it, in fact, I hated it. I wondered if Gaston knew how close Belle and this boy seemed to be, and if he did, why he would ever let her anywhere _near_ this barn?

 _Perhaps I should enlighten him. He_ did _tell her to stop concerning herself with the servants. Maybe_ he _would put a stop to these little visits._

 _Or maybe he'll hurt her again._

Honestly, the only thing that stopped me from seriously considering ratting the pair of them out was remembering the horrible ugly bruises that had disfigured the girl's face two weeks ago. I wouldn't risk getting Belle into trouble, I decided, but seeing them together did make me wonder...

Did Belle keep coming down here to visit this horse she was always brushing, or was she coming down here to be with _him_?

Imagine, choosing a stable boy over a prince!

I kept on having to remind myself that Belle wasn't like the other girls I had known. All of _those_ girls would scoff at the idea of indulging in romance with a stable boy, and relish the idea of romancing a prince. But then... I had to take into account that Gaston... he did... hurt her. And it was odd, that even though I had seen it with my own eyes, I still had a difficult time believing that Gaston had done something so barbaric. I still didn't know _why_ it happened, and a part of me was too afraid to ask him.

I had been avoiding him, which I knew was confusing to him, but I wondered what explanation he would give me if I cornered him on the matter. And even more discouraging, would the explanation he would offer, if any, be satisfactory to me?

I wanted to tell myself no, that there was no way Belle had done anything to deserve that level of abuse, but if it came down to a choice between the two of them, who would I pick?

Gaston had been my best friend for years. Even when I was away from home for all that time, I still considered him so. Granted, I probably could have done a better job in keeping in contact with him, but I hadn't wanted anything to anchor me down. It was why I demoted the job of reading my letters to my assistants, it was why I had been so reluctant to come back when I was called, It was why I had drowned myself in delights from all over the world, to the point where I couldn't even remember my own last name.

I had ignored _all_ connections here, because I not only didn't want to think about what had happened to my parents, I did not want to have to think about what _would_ happen to me once my fun was officially over. I would have returned before my name day anyway, the letter from D'Arque had just sped things up several months.

Perhaps if I had written him letters, I would be more informed of what had happened while I had been away. How he had met this girl, and how she had ended up in the castle, completely cowed by him. Perhaps I would have been able to see the change happening in him.

But then that led to a thought even more troubling; _maybe he hadn't changed. Maybe_ I _was the one who was changing._

Ripping myself away from the harsh demoralizing thought, I returned to the barn to see the two still staring at each other lovingly. My blood reached a boil when I noticed they were holding hands. Though the questions made me furious, they hit me all at once.

Did she love him?

Was the reason she disliked being with Gaston because she wanted to be with this stable boy instead?

Why was she still intimate with Gaston if she wanted to be with someone else?

This girl was as maddening as she was beautiful. Honestly, it would have been so much easier if she was just another pretty girl with nothing in her head. But then, I wondered, would I be half as intrigued with her, if she _were_ like that?

Thankfully for my sanity, a distraction came in the form of a young dark haired maid rushing through the barn door, making the pair jump apart in surprise. The young woman, whom I recognised from that day in the library, looked flustered and breathless as she panted, "Did I miss anything?"

Lumière, suddenly blushing, stood there staring at the new girl with his mouth slightly agape. I watched in confusion as Belle lightly elbowed him in the ribs, causing the dumbstruck boy to shake himself and close his mouth with a snap.

 _What was that about?_

Watching the boy struggle to speak, his Adam's-apple bobbing as he swallowed repeatedly, Belle suddenly chirped, "No, she's still sleeping, but Lumière is convinced it's going to happen tonight."

The pretty maid's eyes widened on Belle, as though she hadn't seen her upon first entering the barn, because her eyes had been entirely focused on the suddenly silent stable hand. "Oh, Belle! Are you alright? I heard what happened last night, and I wanted to come and find you, but I've had so much work to do this morning I've only just gotten a few minutes to come and see how Marybeth is doing. You are alright, aren't you? All of the servants who saw what happened said you saved the whole castle! I'm so proud of you! But you didn't get hurt, did you? I can't believe I missed it all, I was so tired and I just slept right through all the commotion and..."

It was in that single second that the chatty girl's dark eyes then focused on me, and widened to an almost comical size. A look of pure terror came over her features, one I did not understand at all. She choked, made the strangest strangled noise as though her words were jammed in her throat, and lowered her head to the ground. She curtsied meekly but didn't look up again, suddenly finding a great amount of interest in her worn frayed old shoes.

 _What?_

I looked over the small maid in confusion as the silence of the stables suddenly felt heavy and uncomfortable. What was I supposed to have done to have caused such an adverse reaction in someone I had never officially met before? Why had the girl frozen the second she saw me? Casting my eyes over to Belle and Lumière, I thought to ask them if they knew what was going on, yet found the two staring at the small girl with identical looks of sympathy and sadness on their faces.

What was going on?

Feeling as though I was missing something obnoxiously obvious, I watched as Belle gave Lumiere another nudge in the arm. Seeming to snap out of whatever haze he was in, Lumière cleared his throat and took a cautionary step closer to the timid girl.

"Fifi?" The boy said quietly, approaching slowly as if she were a wounded animal. I had no idea what was happening, but somehow seeing me had put the girl into something of a terrified state. She didn't look up, merely shook from where she stood glued to the floor. Her short black hair did little to hide her pale oval-shaped face, but she refused to look up at the boy as he stepped closer.

Lumière reached out his hand to gently touch her shoulder, only for the girl to flinch back. I caught a sight of her large dark panic-stricken eyes before they returned to staring at the gravel. The boy sighed, and lowered his arms forlornly at his sides. He was about to say something else, but I had had just about enough.

"Girl," I addressed her, giving only a moments pause on the looks of horror I was receiving from both Belle and Lumière, before taking a step towards the maid. She still refused to raise her head even though I knew she knew I was talking to her. Lumiere made a move as though to block the girl from my sight, but my glare had him retreating with a fearful look on his long face.

"Won't you look at me?" I asked rather sternly. I might not have known exactly what was going on, but this girl was being incredibly disrespectful. I may have put up with disrespect from Belle, but she was the _only_ exception. This girl was a servant, and if I told her to look at me she had better damn well raise her eyes!

"Your Majesty..." I heard Lumière attempt to interfere, but I waved my hand telling him to stop. With a few steps, I was towering over the maid's tiny form, feeling little sympathy for her obvious distress. She was visibly shaking, her whole body slouched over as though she were trying to protect herself from being hit. I didn't understand her demeanour, but that didn't mean I was prepared to be ignored.

"Look at me!" I ordered through clenched teeth, angered that yet _another_ person beneath me was refusing to do what I wanted. My tone must have finally snapped the girl to her senses, because she slowly raised her eyes, a single solitary tear lingering on her thick right eyelash.

Her evident fear was the only thing that stopped me from yelling at her. Taking a small step back I observed the manner in which she held herself, "Have we ever met before?" I asked her, even though I was sure we hadn't. I wasn't the best at remembering girl's faces, but the pretty ones always seemed easier to recall. And she _was_ pretty, despite her fear. Not nearly as much as the other girl watching me from across the barn, but attractive enough. I hoped I didn't have a past with this girl that I was somehow forgetting, not least because I didn't want to think about how negative the past must have been to invoke this kind of reaction in her.

Her watery eyes widened, as did her mouth, forming a rather large gap even though her chin was quivering. Apparently unable to speak, she merely shook her head.

I wasn't appeased.

"Have I done something to offend you?" I asked again, this time certain the answer would be no. I didn't understand how someone could have such a negative reaction towards me when I had never so much as spoken a single word to them. This girl was behaving very peculiar, and I was confused, as well as angry. How dare this stranger I had never even met treat me as though I were some kind of pariah!

Again, she shook her head, but my patience towards the situation had reached its limit.

"Speak when you answer me!" I spat, causing her to jump. I felt movement behind me, and all of a sudden I wasn't looking at the little maid any longer, but a pair of pleading gleaming brown eyes.

"Please, Your Majesty," Belle exclaimed, holding her hands up in front of her as though in prayer, "She's really shy! She can't talk to strangers! It makes her incredibly nervous to meet someone new! She doesn't mean to ignore you or be rude, it's simply something she suffers with!" Belle frantically defended her, while the maid cowered behind her in fear.

I looked into Belle's eyes guardedly, my attention suddenly redirecting entirely on her.

 _Why does she_ do _that? Why does she put herself in compromising situations for the sake of others?_ Servants were not supposed to be so outspoken against those of higher status, much less royalty. It was true that being under Gaston's protection may be making the girl a little reckless, but it wasn't like she hadn't been punished for helping the servants before. For all she knew, I could go running to Gaston about this and she could end up hurt again. Why risk it? She made no sense to me.

Gazing deeply into those compassionate eyes, I huffed in annoyance. Taking a calming step back I looked over Belle's shoulder to glare at the maid still cowering behind her. "Fine. You are excused, girl. But the next time I speak to you I expect to be addressed with as much respect as is deserving of royalty, understood?"

The girl nodded her head frantically, her short hair bouncing up and down. It frustrated me to allow the girl's indiscretion to go unpunished, but Belle's pleading eyes beaming up at me was enough to sway my decision, I'll be it reluctantly. I didn't want her to hate me, more then I was sure she already did.

At _least_ wanting her to think that I was better than Gaston, I decided it wouldn't _kill_ me to act like a gentleman. But just this once.

Waving my hand through the air dismissively I said, "You are excused then girl, now go before I change my mind."

Her eyes widened fearfully, but she said nothing as she cautiously scurried past me, being careful to keep a large amount of distance between us as though she thought I might lunge at her. I watched as she shuffled quickly over to Lumière, who looked relieved, to say the least. Holding out his hand to her, he quietly inquired, "Would you like to go and see Marybeth now?"

I didn't know who Marybeth was and I didn't care, all I wanted in that moment was for them to leave so that I could once again be alone with my beauty. I watched as the maid nodded and tentatively took his hand. With a quick bow of the head to me, Lumière led the girl down the stables and around a corner, out of sight.

Hearing a small sigh behind me, I turned just in time to hear Belle mumble, "Thank you."

"For what?" I asked her, surprised. What had I done other then terrify some random girl I had never even met before? The whole incident had jarred me, but I hoped that some time alone with Belle could make up for it.

"For understanding," she said sadly as she stared in the direction the maid and stable boy had fled. "Not a lot of people understand her shyness, and even fewer tolerate it. Its got nothing to do with you, Your Majesty, so please don't take what just happened personally. I can't say much more than... She hasn't had the best experiences with people of higher class, and so whenever she meets someone so obviously..." She paused, looking me up and down, using her hand to address my fine clothing, "high in status," she continued, "It makes her nervous, almost to the point of physical illness. So, thank you, for not making it worse by punishing her. Thank you." She repeated, looking up at me with gratitude shining in her eyes.

 _Oh little beauty, how do you do it? How do you spare so much compassion for others_? _How do you care so much knowing that these people you care for can hurt you? Have you never been hurt, or are you just to kind to consider such betrayal?_

I wanted to ask her all of these things, But the words didn't come. With her sincere thanks clinging to the air, the only thing I could think to say without ruining the moment was,

"You're welcome."

* * *

 **Merry Christmas everyone! And if I don't update before then, Happy New Year! I hope you all have a wicked day, eat a tonne of junk food and get mad crazy stomach aches! See you all next year!**


	14. Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword

**Chapter Fourteen – Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword**

.

I hated Christmas.

The holiday, more formally known as Winter Solstice, had always been a joyless time for me. Though every year I was showered with gifts and presents, I had always spent the day alone. Father always had work to do, and as for mother... well... I wouldn't have been able to guess where she went off to on a daily bases, let alone during the 'festive' season.

It was why I was currently glaring at the giant sixty foot tall Christmas tree with such disdain.

Now, if I was honest with myself, I _was_ impressed with the servants' ability to get this enormous thing up and fully decorated in the ballroom _every year_ without fail, but that didn't mean I had to like it. When I was young, the tree was a thing of wonder, for I had never had such decorative symbols of the holidays in my own home. My envy for this place had always stemmed from how much more lively and homely it was then my castle, but now that I was older, I convinced myself it didn't matter. It was just one day. One silly, annual nuisance in my life that would be all over within a few weeks time. Until then, I would just have to endure the servants making the castle look as 'festive' as possible in preparation for the Winter Solstice Ball. Everywhere I looked servants were hanging bunting and weaving tinsel and even singing carols together. It was making me nauseous. I had to get out of the castle.

The cold air whipped around me as I galloped faster. I had chosen a different stallion today, not wanting to chance riding that death trap again. I had actually tried to saddle the horse Belle was always brushing, wondering exactly why she favoured the light brown beast so much – but the stable hand had told me he was 'too sick' to ride. Even though the horse had looked just fine to me, the man had insisted.

Riding 'Hercules' through a rather dense part of the gardens, I started to hear what sounded like... cheering... coming from close by. The loud clapping followed by joyous hollering started getting louder the deeper into the gardens I went, until I was finally forced to dismantle and walk the trail alone, leaving the horse tied to a post nearby.

A dome of dried branches and intricately weaved vines surrounded me as I headed down a path I vaguely recognised. The little sunlight seeping through the gaps in the brambles made me think this place must have looked stunning during the spring, picturing the hanging vines covered in blooming flowers and the shrubbery fresh with colour. As it was, everything was looking rather dull and withered as I trudged along, picking out the path that had obviously been built for use but was rather obscured by wet shrivelled leaves and weeds growing through cracks in the pavement.

The further in I walked, the louder the cheering became, leading me to wonder just what the hell was going on out here. Why would so many people be outside in this kind of weather? It was bitter out here, so much so even _I_ had adorned an extra layer of fox fur before daring to brace the winter chill. And since all the servants appeared to be indoors, preparing for the big celebration that was to be hosted in four weeks time, I had to assume it was the nobles making all the fuss. These types of people weren't exactly ones for self-punishment. Whatever entertainment they were enjoying must be exceptional.

Following the joyous noises, I realised I was starting to recognise this trail. I had been here before; this was the trail that led to the Coliseum.

Upon a visit to a western country several years before I was even born, my father and Silas had travelled to the main city to discuss import matters with the kings ruling there. Whilst on their visit, they both took a liking to the customs of holding competitions and games of skill in a large stone arena, and so upon his return, Silas had his own constructed on the grounds of his castle. It wasn't nearly half as big as the main stadium in the other country's capital, but I believed Silas had done that on purpose, not wanting to do anything that may be considered as challenging or taunting to the king. Not that Silas was afraid of war, but he did, in his own words, 'respect those who command as much respect as I do.'

Coming to a halt before the rather large oak doors, I grabbed one of the ugly door knockers that took the shape of some squashed animals face and pulled it open to be greeted with loud cheering and clapping from all around me. Walking down the long dark path leading into the centre of the arena, I wasn't surprised at all with what I saw.

Gaston and a young man I recognised as an apprentice of the skilled swords instructor, were going head to head in the middle of the rather large circular stage, whilst almost every noble who lived in the castle sat scattered around the curved stone benches that surrounded the entire stadium, ascending in hight until you could be sitting right beneath the king's private viewing box. The sun shone weakly on the whole arena as the stone fortress sat open under the cloudy grey sky.

I wasn't surprised to see Gaston practising his fighting skills; on the days leading up to his coronation there would be quite a number of contests and competitions hosted, and it only made sense that the man of honour would participate in at least a few of these games. What did surprise me though, was how many of the nobles had actually ventured out of their warm rooms to watch him. They were all seated around the circle arena, some on higher levels further back, while most of the women had front row seats to the display.

Looking around, my eyes widened when they landed on a certain brown haired beauty.

Belle was sitting as close to the stage as possible, completely isolated from everyone, looking bored. Her elbows were resting on her knees and her back was slack and lacklustre as she stared at the activities with dull heavy-lidded eyes; like she would literally prefer to be anywhere else rather than watch the fight before her.

I couldn't help but chuckle. She looked so enchanting with her bottom lip stuck out in a childish pout that made me want to go over there and bite it, just to see how it would taste. I wondered why she was here, but then looking back at Gaston as he weaved and jabbed around the kid with the sword, the answer was pretty clear. Gaston loved to show off, and who would pass up an opportunity to impress such a fine specimen.

I turned back to the fight just in time to see Gaston swerve and knock the sword right out of the young man's hand. All the watching nobility cheered, while Belle raised her hands to limply clap twice before returning her arms to her knees. I smiled. She wasn't impressed at all.

The young man bowed to Gaston and Gaston tipped his head in acknowledgement, before turning to face the crowd and bowing grandly. I rolled my eyes. There were less than fifty people out here and yet he was acting like he was performing for a packed arena. His arrogance truly did know no bounds.

"Who's next?!" He called out loudly, his strong voice bellowing through the stone dome.

There were a group of young men sitting on the lowest bench, all ten holding swords and half looking completely exhausted. Gaston would be hard pressed to find someone who could go against him in a group of half-trained boys. They were outmatched, not just in size, but in skill and experience. __Poor kids__ , I thought, looking at them cynically; __who would dare to go up against a prince... and win__ _?_

"Adam!"

I snapped to attention to catch Gaston practically stampeding right at me. _Damn, I hadn't meant for him to notice me._ He held out his hand and on instinct I shook it, feeling my fingers getting crushed. He was charged, I realised, like a bull revving for a fight. His hair was a mess of long, ashy strands that had leaked chaotically from his customary ponytail. His clothing was slightly rumpled and dirty, indicating he must have gotten knocked down at least once during all these fights he had clearly won so far. And he must have won them all, otherwise, _he_ would be the one sitting on the bench right now. Losers received no glory at all.

"You _finally_ stepped out of your room! At last! I was starting to get worried. You know the rumour is that Cogsworth spent a whole eight weeks locked in his chambers and came out completely bald! This is your hair, isn't it? You haven't stolen one of his toupees have you?" He asked loudly, then raised his hand to my head and plucked a single strand of hair right from the root.

"Ow! What the hell!" I yelled, causing a mass of snickers from everyone watching. Gaston only grinned. "Sorry old sport, had to check. But now that you've _finally_ decided to grace us with your presence, how about we have a little fun?" He asked me, his amused smile darkening in a way that made me tense.

"What did you have in mind?" I questioned suspiciously. He chuckled merrily and threw one arm over my shoulder. I gave him a disgusted look since he was all sweaty, but he merely laughed harder and practically forced me forward into the centre of the stage. Everyone who hadn't noticed me hiding in the shadows looked up in anticipation. My eyes immediately sought the only person whose reaction I really cared about, but before I could look at her, Gaston turned me bodily to face the crowd.

"I have a new challenger! Lafou, fetch Adam here a sword!" Gaston ordered, and I watched in horror as the little man nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed towards the small armoury that was stocked full of weapons.

I hastily ducked out from under Gaston's arm, shaking my head.

"Oh no, you don't! I've been sitting on my ass for days and you've been out here for hours. It wouldn't be a fair fight and you know it!" I accused him, trying to back out of this as subtly as I could. I didn't want to fight him. I still didn't know if I wanted to be in the same room with him. It looked as though he had believed all the lies I had spun about staying away from him because I was so focused on the problems with my kingdom, but the reality of it was, that I almost couldn't stand the sight of him, and the fact that he was making jokes and treating me like a friend only made it worse. I wasn't ready to forgive him; I knew that much.

Gaston only smirked at me. Raising his eyebrow as though assessing how best to convince me, suddenly turned and faced the crowd again, "Sorry folks, it looks like _princess_ Adam doesn't want to fight me. Maybe because he knows he'd lose. Or perhaps... he's just afraid of me." He shouted in a mocking childlike voice. All the women made sad 'ahh' noises while the men snickered and laughed at my expense.

That was it.

I was tired of people laughing at me.

I was tired of people ignoring me.

I was tired of people treating me like less of a man then I really was.

I was a king! A _king_ damn it! And no one laughed at a king!

I was going to show them all exactly why.

I growled; a deep guttural animalistic noise exposing all my anger and frustration. It wasn't a playful sound, it was sinister, even to my ears, and Gaston's eyes widened a fraction before his smirk returned, his eyes turning predatory as he looked at me slyly.

"Does that mean _Princess Adam_ accepts my duel?" He whispered condescendingly, as though speaking to a baby. Seeing Lafou stumbling towards us, I snatched the fencing sword from his small hands so viciously that he squealed like a pig and ran back to the benches to safety. Shredding my thick fur coat, I tossed it to the ground, raised my sword, straightened my back and glared Gaston right in the eye.

"We'll see who's scared when you're on your ass you little bitch!" I snarled.

"Bring it, whore!" He grinned.

I made the first move, jabbing my sword straight at his chest. Fencing swords weren't built to do a whole lot of damage, which was good considering neither of us was wearing armour, but that didn't mean you couldn't do harm with one if you were really trying, and that's exactly what I was doing.

The smile soon melted from Gaston's face as he realised I was taking this seriously, and he expertly dodged my attack and charged towards me to attempt one of his own. We danced around each-other, his power versus my control; and it was quite a match.

But I was certain I would win. As talented as Gaston was in all forms of combat, I was the one with the most self-control. Gaston was impulsive and grew frustrated very easily. I knew if I could distract him long enough he'd start getting impatient and begin making mistakes. So I waited him out. I pivoted around his sword and went for areas such as the shoulder and waist, forcing him to jerk awkwardly away each time, making him lose his balance. He was getting annoyed, I could see it in his eyes. He knew the way I fought, but I knew his style as well. Theoretically, we were evenly matched, but I was certain my anger towards him in these last few weeks would give me the edge that I needed. I wanted to teach him a lesson.

My eyes never left his, just as I was trained. I had no idea what was happening outside our match and I didn't care. I kept my focus on every twitch and muscle of his body as he charged forward with his sword raised and pivoted it down at the last minute, aiming for my leg, I blocked him, but we ended up locked into each other. He was using all his strength to force his sword against mine and I realised what he was doing. He was trying to cut me with my own sword! I couldn't let it happen! He was bearing all his weight down on me, so close I could feel his breath on my neck, my muscles straining with there effort to keep the thin metal blade a mere inch from cutting through the fabric of my breeches.

I had to do something! _Come on think!_ Then inspiration struck. Altering my grip only slightly, I collapsed my knees and fell back on my toes, barely managing to stay on the ground. I watched as Gaston stumbled ungracefully forward, leaning against his sword to keep from falling flat on his face. Taking my opportunity, I lashed out while he was distracted and delivered one single thin slice to his right arm.

He let out a sharp yelp, hoisting back on his feet. Stunned, he looked down at his sliced arm and then back at me, his eyes black.

I smirked.

"First blood." I taunted proudly.

He growled. Bounding forward, he pulled his sword back and slashed it forward towards _my_ arm; pulling his punch, so to speak. I thought that his anger was getting the best of him, so much so that he was losing his focus far too quickly. I dodged the blow easily, watching as he tumbled forward again. What I didn't expect was for him to regain his balance halfway down and ram his left shoulder into my diaphragm, winding me. Using disorientation to his advantage he sliced his sword down, cutting one small thin line right through my trouser leg. The sudden sting had me rearing back much as he had done. I looked down at the blooming red line in shock, much as he had done. Glaring back up at him, it was his turn to smile.

"First Blood." He jeered.

The cheating bastard.

Angered at his use of brute strength in a match of skill, I quickly bounced forward with my sword aimed at his waist, but he had better control. He blocked my sword with his own and I couldn't find my footing in time, having been too impulsive in my attack. The blades clashed sharply and I miserably staggered towards him. Using my lack of balance to his advantage, he once again rammed his shoulder into my stomach, only this time I felt my entire body being lifted off the ground. With an almighty 'ompth' I crashed into the dirt, cringing as pain shot through my back. I coughed hard and wheezed breathlessly, my mind going foggy, only retaining enough sense to numbly feel my sword being kicked from my limp grip.

When my lungs finally opened up, my hazy vision cleared to see the tip of a thinly bladed sword right in my face, and Gaston leering over me, smirking.

"Prince Adam has lost his weapon! Prince Gaston wins the match!" Someone yelled in the distance, followed by loud cheering and applauding. I glared up at Gaston's smug face.

"You hit like a bitch." I wheezed.

"Says the bitch on the floor." He replied with a grin.

Tossing his sword away, he held out his hand to me. And shaking my head, half dazed, I took it.

And we both started laughing.

I hated to admit it, but I had missed him. I had missed his dry wit and sarcastic sense of humour. I had missed joking and messing around with him. Most importantly I had missed _having_ a friend in the first place. It didn't mean that I had forgotten what he had done, or my feelings towards his actions, but I just couldn't help my acceptance of him. He was the only one in the world I had ever considered entirely my equal. In all the good and all the bad ways. I realised that attempting to ignore him was just as stupid as it was petty and immature. I couldn't simply close my eyes and make twenty-one years of friendship disappear. If I was going to overcome this, I had to do it like a man.

Assessing the ragged state I was in, I couldn't help but cringe. My clothing was dishevelled and dirty, I could feel my hair was a mess, glowering at the thin red slash on my leg, I looked up at my friend and scowled.

"I liked these breaches!" I whined.

He shrugged. "I liked this shirt."

And we both laughed again.

Taking a moment to breathe through my humour, I remembered all the witnesses to the fight and the fact that they were all still cheering Gaston's victory. I expected to be furious about losing, but I wasn't. While a little irritated, I thought a good fight was exactly what Gaston and I had needed. Now that it was all said and done, I thought that I could possibly forgive him.

If Belle could, why not I?

"I hope you need it amputated." I sulked. He chuckled, tucking his wild unruly hair behind his ears.

"Don't be a sore loser brother. Besides, I have _excellent_ medical attention waiting for me." He purred proudly, and before I could ask, did he begin to stomp his way across the arena. I curiously followed.

Not to surprisingly, he headed straight for Belle, who jumped up immediately, pulling a little metal box from somewhere near her feet. I wasn't surprised that no one was sitting within thirty feet of her. I caught all the glares the young girl was getting as Gaston sat himself down on the bench beside her. Of course, they hated her. Most likely, they saw the girl as unworthy of Gaston's attention. Oh, how wrong they were.

Belle leaned forward, inspecting the small thin cut on Gaston's right arm. She slowly rolled up his sleeve, letting out a small sigh as she did so.

"I do wish you'd wear some kind of armour before you start playing with swords." She tutted gently, her soft eyes inspecting his injury as though she genuinely cared about his wellbeing.

"Worried about me are you?" Gaston asked her with a lazy smile, leaning back against the bench as carefree as could be.

She shook her head at him almost scoldingly, reaching into the box to retrieve a piece of cloth and a murky green bottle filled with some kind of liquid. Alcohol, I'd guess, judging by the smell.

"I'd be more worried if you got your arm cut off," She mumbled, tipping the bottle upside down on the cloth then placing it over his injury, dabbing at it softly. Gaston laughed lightly.

"Don't worry darling. Adam over here is harmless. Ain't that right sore loser?"

I rolled my eyes at his comment, my focus never leaving Belle.

They were acting completely different today, then the last time I was alone with them. She was being so gentle with him, carefully tending his wound, focusing entirely on the task as though she had absolutely no desire to see him suffer. And he was watching her do it, his gaze burning into her while a small, _genuine_ smile tipped the corners of his mouth.

Perhaps what I saw that day had just been... a one-off occurrence. Perhaps that was the first time anything like that had ever happened and that was why she had forgiven him so quickly. Though he was often rude and coarse with her, that was how he was with everyone.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he wasn't abusing her. Maybe what happened that night had only happened because he had been angry. He was angry with her at the start of the night and his blow out with his father had only made him more incensed. I wasn't making excuses for him, but perhaps... there was something here I wasn't fully seeing.

Looking at the tender smile adorning the girl's beautiful plump pink lips, I was reminded once again that I only had a handful of pieces to this puzzle; but that didn't make me any less desperate to fill all those missing spaces until the whole picture was completely clear.

Worried I'd get caught staring at her, I scoffed at Gaston's comment and gestured towards the girl.

"Don't _I_ get any medical attention?" I snarked, pointing down to the thin gash on my leg.

"Ask Lafou." Gaston teased.

"I'm not letting _that_ idiot touch me!" My face soured, offended at the mere notion. No way!

He let out a bark of laughter.

"Sorry brother, but as previously stated..." He trailed off, gripping the girl's wrist and pulling her so that she tumbled unexpectedly into his lap. She let out a yelp of surprise as Gaston slipped his arms beneath her legs and abruptly stood, holding her like a man would a new bride.

"This one is mine."

I had just enough time to see the bright pink of Belle's cheeks before he walked away with her in his arms. I could literally feel the gaze of every person out here staring after them as they left the arena.

But none, I was certain, was more envious than I.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"... it's the last thing I do I'll see you out on the streets without a franc to your name you little bitch!" A harsh, familiar voice snarled from just around the corner. There wasn't much on this floor, just a few guest bedrooms and a private lounge area for their occupants. The only reason I was up here was because... I was seeking Mrs Potts.

I needed help. My inquiries into my deceitful council members were getting me nowhere. Weeks of nothing but reading letters and I was still empty handed with nothing to show for my effort but a massive headache. I supposed I could have gone to the king with this, he _did_ have some of the best minds in the country working under him, and I was certain that if I handed over everything my council had sent me, they would be able to figure it out.

I was also sure that I'd thereafter always be known as the boy-king who couldn't solve his own problems.

I just needed to _talk_ to someone about this, and even though I was ashamed of myself for it, I reasoned that Mrs Potts was most likely the safest option. The idea that she might be capable of assisting me in proving my council guilty of treason was doubtful, but she _would_ listen. I could count on her to give me her full attention, and to offer sympathy and guidance. I was embarrassed to admit it, but I knew that that was what I needed. So I had asked a random servant where Mrs Potts was meant to be working today, and he had pointed me in this direction. And even though my legs kept feeling to turn around and walk away with each step I took towards the guest quarters, my mind kept insisting that I simply suck it up.

It would help to talk about it.

And she would listen. I knew she would.

And now another spiteful voice joined the first as I neared the end of the corridor.

"Edward was my friend you whore, and I know you set him up! Thanks to you, I'll likely never see him again! What gives you the right you lowly bottom feeding piece of trash?!" A male voice said this time.

Wait... Edward? What..?

Stopping in my tracks, I peeked around the corner only to be confronted with a very odd sight indeed. There was that little maid whom I had scolded for ignoring me the other day, but she looked even more terrified now then she did then; most likely because a young man twice her size had her cowering against the wall, while a similar woman stood further away, a sneer marring her pretty face as she glared down at the trembling girl.

I recognised these two. They were Julian and Marcus, children of a member of Silas's council. I hadn't seen them in years, not just because of my three-year vacation, but also because children of council members spent very little time in the castle until they came of age. All of them were shipped out to boarding schools, only returning for breaks in the school calendar... such as Christmas.

Yet another reason to hate this stupid holiday.

"I asked you a question bitch! Or are you that stupid that you can't even fucking speak! What gives you the right to be here when Edward is gone! He was from a family of nobility and you weren't worth the dirt you licked off his shoes, and yet _he's_ gone, and a cunt like you is skipping through the halls of the castle like you own the place! Tell me why you bitch?!" Marcus yelled at the tiny maid, his fair face twisted into an ugly snarl. His sister snickered cruelly as the young girl shook, her body pressing into the wall so tightly it was as though she wished she could sink right through it and disappear.

What was going on here?

What did these two have against this girl, and who was Edward? Edward...

Edward! That was it! I knew I had been forgetting something!

Every day since I got here I had had an odd feeling like someone was missing. Every time I sat down to eat there had been an itching in the back of my mind that there was a person who should have been sitting with us. Now I remembered! Edward's father, Lord Sebastian, was a member of the King's high court. Possibly the wealthiest man in the kingdom save the king himself, and you could bet that such snobbery came through in his personality. Him, his wife, and his son always acted like they were better than everyone else. I had never cared for Edward much. He was a few years younger then Gaston and I, and when I was here I mostly avoided him. He was a creepy little thing, even as a child, and as he aged, he only got better at hiding it. On the outside you would have seen a refined, polished young man on his way to adulthood... but his eyes. His eyes told all.

But what did the son of a wealthy nobleman have to do with a young servant who was to shy to talk to strangers? Where was Edward and his family? Edward would have been out of school by now, and should have been here training to take his father's place, much like Gaston was doing, but instead..?

"You really are a stupid whore aren't you? You know what _I_ think? I think that for all the crying you did, you secretly loved it when Edward touched you. Loved that a high born man of wealth and status would ever stoop so low as to put his hands on a grubby little thing like you. And when he finally decided to stop pitying you and move on to a woman worthy of him, you framed his whole family! Isn't that right bitch? Isn't _that_ what happened?" Julian screamed right in the maid's ear. The girl whimpered.

 _Now might be a good time to intervene._

Coughing loudly to announce my presence, I watched with a fair amount of amusement as the pair jumped away from the girl immediately. Spinning around, their faces lit with identical expressions of surprise and, not to shockingly, fear. I inwardly chuckled.

 _So strong two against one, let's see how loud you two are against me._

"Prince Adam!" Julian exclaimed loudly, giving me a forced smile, perhaps hoping I hadn't heard any of the abuse they were spewing at the young maid. A maid who actually looked... relieved to see me.

 _Why?_

I was a complete asshole to her the last time we met, not that I wasn't justified. Still, how did she know I wasn't going to jump in and join the two nobles?

 _Was I getting_ _soft?_

Shaking my head in denial, I watched as Julian curtsied and Marcus bowed with perfect precision and etiquette. __Nice to know their schools are teaching them__ something _ _.__

"Julian, Marcus; good to see you again." I lied cordially, cutting my eyes back to the maid who had averted her gaze to the floor. She dipped into a curtsy of her own, but never once looked up. _So we're back to this again?_

"And _you_ , Your Majesty! I heard that you had returned from your trip, but I had no idea you were staying in this castle! Will you be here long?" Julian asked, batting her thick eyelashes at me, trying to appear sweet and demure even though anyone with a brain could've seen right through that.

She was definitely her mother's daughter. Lady Annalise was possibly the fairest noblewoman in the castle, with soft features and light – almost white – blond hair. Attributes she had successfully passed to her children. She was also the most demanding. She was the woman who had called Belle a whore the day she appeared in the dining room in that rather delicious dress I still had fantasies about, and I knew her attitude towards servants to be far worse than simple mumbled insults. She had taught her daughter to be just as cut-throat, it appeared, but what I had walked in on was no mere temper tantrum. The way the pair had been attacking the girl was vicious and spiteful. And a part of me acknowledged the fact that not long ago, I wouldn't have cared. I wouldn't have cared because despite how little I liked Lady Annalise and her bratty children, I still held more regard for nobility then servants.

But that was exactly the argument I had used while I watched Gaston molest Belle. Exactly the justification I had made when the tear slipped from the girl's eye and I did nothing but sit in my chair and stare. If I had said something, done something, called Gaston out for how brutally he was behaving, maybe what happened afterwards... wouldn't have.

A flash of the beauty's blackened eye and bruised body sent a chill through me.

I refused to be a coward again.

"Yes, for a few months actually," I answered, keeping my turmoil closely concealed. "And I take it the two of you are back from your schools for the holidays? At least I assume that is why you appear to have the time to interrupt the servants hard at work in the castle?"

The polite expressions melted from their faces in seconds.

Marcus recovered first. Tipping his light blond hair away from his sharp hazel eyes, he forced his face into a painful looking grimace I was sure was supposed to be a smile. Turning back to glance at the scared maid, he waved his hand through the air as though dismissing the entire incident. "Oh, no Your Majesty, my sister and I were merely _greeting_ little Fifi here. It's been several months since we last saw her you see. We simply wanted to catch up with our old _friend_."

Something about the way he said the word _friend_ , would have let me know he was lying even if I hadn't overheard them talking. There was something threatening in his tone; like a warning. A warning most definitely _not_ directed at me. I raised my brow.

" _Friends_ are you? Is this true Fifi?" I asked the girl, who looked up at me in surprise, clearly not expecting to be asked anything. I watched as panic and fear flashed across her face, her dark eyes darting between Marcus and his sister as though trying to decide if it was worth lying to me. She was about to say something, I know she was, when Julian scoffed.

"I wouldn't bother trying to get her to talk Your Majesty. It's sad, but she really _is_ quite simple. Marcus and I pity her enough to befriend her, but unfortunately, _uneducated_ servants never really have much of interest to say. I'm sure you would agree that..."

"No, Your Majesty." Fifi interrupted Julian's pathetic simpering. The look of shock the siblings shared was eclipsed only by the smug smile that came over my face. I was surprised the girl had spoken out at all but pleased she had spoken the truth. As the siblings threatened the girl with their eyes, I prompted her.

"No? So, you are not friends then?" I asked her, already knowing the answer. The girl shook her head.

"So why were they speaking to you? Were they harassing you?"

"Your Majesty..."

"Be quiet!" I hissed at Marcus, who looked back in shock, retreating a step as though I had physically struck him. I didn't take kindly to being interrupted. I could care less who their daddy was. I could have them imprisoned with a flick of my wrist and they both knew it.

"Answer my question, Fifi. Were they harassing you?" I questioned her as calmly as I was able. I knew this girl was timid. If I scared her, she would likely clam up and I wouldn't get another word out of her. I had to be 'delicate' with this one.

She stared up at me cautiously, no doubt wondering why I was defending her or why I even cared. I told myself I didn't really _care_ , it was simply the principle of the matter. I didn't like being lied to, and that was exactly what Julian and Marcus were attempting to do.

She gave me a small nod, but upon seeing my stern expression hastily replied, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Why you little..." Julian's shrill voice squealed, but I had had just about enough of these two.

"Silence!" I yelled at her, my contempt for both her and her spineless brother vibrating through the quiet halls. A look of fear flashed across her pretty face for only a moment, but the vapid bitch didn't get the picture and just continued to talk.

"But Your Majesty, this wretch is _lying_ to you! Since when do you take the word of a peasant over nobility? They're all liars and thieves, especially _this_ one!" She shouted at me, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the maid who was now cowering _behind_ me, as though _I_ were her protection. The irregularity of the circumstances had me wrong-footed, for sure. But at the same time, I felt a wave of black hot rage surge through my body. How _dare_ she!

"Did I not just tell you to be silent?" I growled quietly, taking slow, calculating steps towards the noble as she retreated. I couldn't be sure what my face looked like at that moment, but if it reflected even a fraction of my anger, it was no wonder the brat was shaking.

"I... you..." She stammered, cornering herself into the opposite wall. I would have grinned in victory if I wasn't so furious.

"Well?"

"... I don't... I..."

I slammed my hand into the wall beside her head as hard as I could, making her flinch and cower away from me. I smirked menacingly, remembering the smug look on the girl's face when her brother had the helpless maid in the exact same position. I believed _this_ is what the people referred to as _karma_.

"It looks as though the _simple_ maid isn't the only one incapable of talking properly, _is she_ Lady Julian? Perhaps I should inform your father that all the gold he pays for your private schooling would be better suited elsewhere, since it appears even an _uneducated servant_ is more able to answer _simple_ questions than you!" I mocked her, taking great satisfaction in the way her eyes nearly popped from her face in response. Girls like her, from high bred, well-respected families, would be tremendously unaccustomed to being insulted, and that much was made clear as her face burned bright red with both anger and embarrassment. I cared nothing for neither.

"Or better yet, perhaps I should take it all. All the gold, all the wealth. With the snap of my fingers I could have your whole family on the streets, and then you would really know what it would be like to be a lying, thieving peasant. All though..." I tipped my head to the side and dragged my gaze up and down the girl's ripe body. Her mouth gaped in fear at the lascivious look I was giving her, though it was only for show, there was no way she would possibly guess that. Twirling a strand of her long blond hair around my finger, I watched in amusement as her light eyes bulged. "I'd bet you could earn your family's fortune back in no time at all. A pretty girl like you... I'd bet you'd make an _excellent_ whore. Just like your _mother_." I jeered. Angry tears began streaming down her pale face as she shook like a leaf before me.

Feeling satisfied with my work, I took a long step back and straightened my coat proudly. Looking over to the girl's pathetic brother - who had remained immobile the whole time I was insulting his sister - I said, "Take yourself and your sister away from this wing until it is time to rest. And if I ever find either of you harassing this - or any other servant for that matter – again, I'll make good on my threat, and then we shall really see how long your sister can remain a lady on the harsh streets of this kingdom." I sneered coldly, smirking as Marcus shook off his shock and bounded forward to grab Julian's hand, dragging her down the hall and away from the guest wing without a word or backwards glance.

After I was sure they were really gone, I relaxed, letting all the anger and tension drain from my body in one deep breath. I turned to face the little maid whose eyes were just as wide as Lady Julian's had been. Her mouth was also gaping open like she could not believe what she had just witnessed. If I was honest with myself I could not believe it either. I had grown up around those two, but we had never been friends. My status far eclipsed their own and I could achieve everything I had threatened with ease. Perhaps not as easily as I had made out, but simply enough. _No one_ defied royalty. You would think the world would be intelligent enough to know that by now.

"Are you alright?" I questioned the maid, not really caring for her well-being, just trying to be polite for once.

She blinked several times, staring vacantly at the spot above my eyes, before she shook herself. Nodding timidly, she pushed herself off the wall, self-consciously brushing down the skirt of her dress and soothing the flyaway locks of her short black hair. "Yes; thank you, Your Majesty. I'm alright now." She said demurely, looking over her shoulder at a cart full of cleaning supplies I hadn't even noticed was in the hall until now.

"I-I should probably get b-back to work now." She mumbled distractedly, making to step towards it. I stopped her.

"One moment, I want to ask you something." She looked surprised, but stared up at me expectantly.

"What happened to Lord Edward?" I questioned her, my curiosity getting the best of me. I sensed it was a touchy subject, given the way Julian and Marcus were talking about him, but the missing noble family had been bothering me unknowingly for the last few weeks now and I wanted to know what was going on. Never did I think that leaving for three years would have me return to so many mysteries and secrets.

Just as I suspected, the girl tensed, her whole body going rigid. She then hugged her arms like she was trying to cover up her violent reaction. When she spoke her voice was stiff and emotionless.

"Lord Edward's family were exiled sire. The king banished them from this Kingdom for treason."

 _Treason?_

 _No way!_

Edward had been a conniving unsavoury little thing but his father was completely loyal to the crown. He may have been obnoxious and his family may have behaved like entitled brats, but Lord Sebastian would have never done anything to harm Silas or his Kingdom. I believed he had passed those values to his son at least. Who would be brave enough or dumb enough to commit treason against a king like Silas?

"How?" I demanded so harshly the girl cringed. She started to tremble again, as though she feared for her safety. Quietly, as though reluctant to talk about it, she whispered, "Theft. Lord Sebastian was caught stealing gold from the royal treasury. The king called everyone who resided in the palace to the throne room, charged him with treason and sentenced him to life in prison. His wife and s-s-son were banished."

 _What?!_

It was Lord _Sebastian_? _He_ stole from Silas?

I didn't believe it. It wasn't as if I liked the man, far from it in fact, but believing that he had stolen from King Silas was like believing Cogsworth was capable of murder. The two simply did not go hand in hand. Cogsworth was far too pompous, and Lord Sebastian had been far too loyal. In fact, I believed that Silas was the only person he had ever been truly _loyal_ to. His wife and son had always taken second place to his duties to the king, much like many of the other council members, but there was a reason Lord Sebastian was highest ranking of them all. He had had the king's ear, and quite possibly his trust. It was why his son behaved the way he always had. He believed himself to be untouchable. Apparently, he wasn't.

How was I just finding out about this now? Had I really been that oblivious to what was happening in my homeland while I was gallivanting off overseas?

I could answer that question for myself; yes, I was. I hadn't given a crap what tragedy was befouling my own kingdom, so why would I have cared what was transpiring with anyone else's? Just how much had I missed while I was gone?

But, wait. Then why would Julian and Marcus have accused this servant? Isn't that what Marcus had been yelling before I had interrupted them? That Edward was gone and it was _her_ fault. What could this little maid possibly have to do with the exile of a noble family? Something about this just wasn't adding up.

I assessed the small girl in front of me. Externally, she seemed harmless. Was it possible there was something darker hiding behind those timid eyes? Julian and Marcus didn't give a shit about the servants, but it was a little hard to believe that they would attack one so viciously without cause or provocation. What exactly had happened to Edward's family, and how could a servant possibly be responsible?

Eyeing the girl cautiously, I was about to bombard her with my questions when the sound of loud thumping footsteps had me turning to face a flustered Mrs Potts.

"I'm here! I'm here! Sorry, I'm late Fifi, I had to leave Chip in the library with Belle before I could..." The older woman panted before her bright red face registered me standing in the hallway. Her eyes bugged, shooting between Fifi and myself. I was slightly amused as I watched her attempt to make herself look presentable even though she was panting heavily and clearly trying to sooth a stitch in her side. Suddenly remembering that I had come up here to talk to _her_ , I realised that in a rather surprising turn of events, Mrs Potts was late for work. And Chip was with Belle, in the library. Interesting.

"Your Majesty," She breathed, and then coughed, curtsying low in an attempt to cover her flustered state. I almost laughed at the sight of her. I really did like this woman.

"Mrs Potts." I greeted, acting like I didn't notice her less than elegant appearance.

Her kind blue eyes darted between myself and Fifi, as though trying to discern why I was here and what was happening. I was glad Fifi was no longer pressed into the wall, or this would have looked really bad.

"Mrs Potts, I was just having a word with Lord Marcus and Lady Julian. I'm afraid they were behaving most unsavoury, but I have warned them that such behaviour will not be tolerated in future. If they turn up here again before nightfall, come and find me immediately, and I'll be sure to fix the problem, alright?" I explained, watching her eyes go from surprise to panic to worry, frantically darting over every inch of Fifi, as though to determine the girl's wellbeing. My gaze narrowed. Did she know about the bullying? Did she know anything about Edward, or how a tiny maid was supposed to be responsible for his exile? What was going on with the servants of this castle? I didn't understand any of this.

"Of course, Your Majesty," She mumbled distractedly, not even looking at me, entirely focused on the little girl behind me.

Frustrated, I sighed. I had come up here hoping for relief to some of my worries, and instead, was only burdened with more questions. Great.

Looking the woman over, I deflated. She was obviously so worried about the tiny maid I knew she would have no time for me this afternoon. I could always order her, but I had lost my nerve. The woman had her own problems, it appeared, I didn't need to be burdening her with my own. I'd think of something else.

"I guess... I guess I'll be leaving now then." I grumbled, suddenly feeling so out of place and awkward. A part of me wanted to stay, but a dirty hallway with two servants wasn't a place for a prince to be. Without really looking at either of them, I marched past a startled Mrs Potts and hurried around the corner. I didn't get very far down the hallway before I heard...

"I'm so sorry Fifi! I had no idea those two were showing up today! The rest of the nobles' children won't be arriving until tomorrow! They didn't do anything to hurt you did they? You are alright?"

"I'm alright," the girl said, "Thanks to him." And silence followed.

I had to admit, that even in my downtrodden state, being acknowledged for something good I did for once, felt... kind of... nice.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

I told myself it was just because I couldn't concentrate in my room. I told myself that I had been confined in the room for too long and bringing all the letters to a different location would help me study better. I told myself that being in the library would improve my concentration and better my chances of finding something useful.

I told myself quite a lot of lies, but the truth was I was only here for the chance to see her again.

"...W-w-walked to his n-new ro-rock-rocking ho-horse and s-sa-said, 'I lo-love it Mama, but n-not as much as I lo-love you!"

"That's fantastic Chip!" Belle exclaimed excitedly, removing her finger from the line the young boy had been reading. "You didn't get stuck on a single word! I'm so proud of you!" She beamed. I watched as the boy jumped off his chair, ran around the large mahogany table stacked with books and hopped onto Belles lap, giving her a tight hug.

"Did I really do good Belle?" He asked her with stars in his eyes, grinning up in wonder. Belle laughed magically and swept some of the boy's ill-kept hair away from his eyes. "You did great. Your mama is going to be so proud of you!"

It was in that moment she noticed me, leaning in the doorway, holding a wooden crate stacked full of letters and staring at her unrepentantly. Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she went to stand, only to remember the child she was cradling in her lap.

"Your Majesty." She said, using her eyes to point to the boy, as though apologising for her inadequate greeting. I'd let her greet me any way she pleased if she just remembered to say my name.

"Adam," I reminded her, entering the room. Her cheeks turned pink, but she said nothing in reply. I noticed Chip looked completely unperturbed by my presence as he played with a single strand of Belle's long brown hair. Instead of becoming annoyed, I found his ignorance rather endearing.

"So, what are we reading?" I asked, trying my hardest to sound casual, as though this was something I did every day. I didn't want her knowing she was the reason I was here. That was the last thing I wanted.

Placing the crate of letters on the table I took the chair Chip had just vacated and pulled the book he had been reading towards me. "'Michael's Rocking Horse?'" I read out-loud, looking at a black and white illustration of a child unwrapping a wooden rocking horse from beneath a solstice tree.

"It's about a boy who asks for too many presents for Winter Solstice, but then wakes up the next day and thinks he doesn't have any presents. Then the boy has a great day with his family anyway and apologises for asking for too many things, and his mama gives him the horse!" Chip enthusiastically explained, his innocent smile stretching his whole face. Then a look of longing overcame his features as he stared down at the drawing on the front of the book. "I wish _I_ had a rocking horse." He moaned wistfully.

"Now Chip," Belle lightly scolded, turning his small body to face hers, he stared up at her with puppy dog eyes. "You know your mama works very hard to get you everything you need. And she also works very hard to get you everything that Spot needs. I know a lot of little boys who would love to have a dog. You don't want to be like Michael do you? Ungrateful for all the things you already have?" She reprimanded him gently.

The young boy's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically.

"Oh no Belle, I love Mama! I would rather have her than any present in the world!" Chip reassured her.

Looking at them both, it made me wish I had had the kind of teacher Belle was for Chip. I had learnt how to read from stuffy old professors who forced me to recite long-winded, dry articles; most often of their own creation. Learning how to read and write had been such a tedious task that I hated doing so even as an adult. But the way Belle was teaching Chip seemed so personal. The way she had praised him for doing so well and how she had patiently waited for him to stutter out the word instead of interrupting. No wonder the boy looked so proud of himself; Belle's gentle, personal manner made the task an enjoyable one.

"Well, I am awfully glad to hear that."

"Mama!" Chip yelled happily, jumping from Belle's lap and running towards the older woman who had just appeared in the doorway. He charged straight into her open arms, where she pulled him up and hugged him affectionately.

"I did really good Mama! Tell her Belle, tell her how good I did!"

Belle giggled and stood from her seat, picking up the book they had just been looking over. "He did wonderfully," She reassured the boy's mother. "Finished the whole book in less than an hour. He's becoming quite the little scholar, aren't you Chip?" She reached out and tickled the boy's sides causing him to laugh and squirm playfully in his mother's arms.

"Thank you, Belle, for watching him." Mrs Potts said, smiling dearly at the younger woman.

"Oh, its no trouble Mrs Potts, really! Chip here is a fantastic student, aren't you Chip?"

The boy grinned and nodded, beaming up at the pair of them. I almost felt bad for ruining the loving moment, but it was rather inevitable that Mrs Potts would notice me sitting here.

"Ad-I mean, Your Majesty! Dear goodness, I didn't see you there! What are you do- I mean, how are you?" Her tone went from surprised to suspicious in a heartbeat. She had known me since childhood, and she knew of my dislike for this room. When I was young, they had to drag me in here kicking and screaming.

"I'm doing well Mrs Potts, and yourself?" I inquired, trying not squirm under the look she was giving me. Her eyes widened that I had asked after her health, and her face turned a deep red as she tugged Chip up in her arms as though using him as a shield against me.

"I'm... fine, Your Highness. Thank you for asking." She stuttered. I could tell she wanted to know what I was doing here, as she looked dubiously between Belle and myself. Her eyes almost held a warning, as though telling me to leave the girl alone. I met her sharp gaze unfalteringly, and after a few moments, she backed down. Thankfully, Belle was to focus on Chip to notice our silent confrontation.

"Well, I must be going. The preparations for dinner will be starting shortly, and I still need to put Chip down for his nap." Mrs Potts explained shakily, ignoring her child's groan. "Do you need any help cleaning up dear?" She asked Belle, while still keeping half an eye on me.

Belle looked behind her at the table askew with books. "Oh no, Mrs Potts, it's fine. Most of them are mine anyway. I'll clean it up, don't worry." Belle insisted. Mrs Potts shared a caring smile.

"If you say so dear. Come Chip, let's get you to bed."

"But I'm not sleepy." The poor boy complained as Mrs Potts hugged him to her chest. Giving me one last pointed look, she curtsied to me and walked from the room.

Alone at last.

I turned to see Belle walk over to a bookcase and bend low, placing the book Chip had been reading on a lower shelf, giving me quite a spectacular view of her rear end.

 _Gods this girl is killing me._

Not wanting to get caught staring – no matter how good her backside looked in that green silk – I moved over to the table where several thick books were stacked.

 _How can she read all of this? What about reading does she find so interesting? What type of things does she like to read?_

Picking up a thick book at random, I looked at the warn brown cover with distaste.

"Do you have something against Shakespeare?" Her soft voice inquired. Looking up, I saw her intense brown eyes were completely focused on me, looking a trifle amused.

 _This is where her focus should always be._

"Huh?" I intelligently replied, so captivated by her gaze I missed her question.

"Shakespeare," She repeated, smiling down at the book I was holding. "You were glaring at one of his most celebrated plays with such distaste I can't help but think your not a fan?"

Looking back at the book, I opened the dusty cover page to be greeted with the black printed title; Romeo and Juliet.

"Romeo and Juliet?" I asked sceptically, raising my eyebrow at her. She stared back at me, puzzled.

"A little ambitious for a seven-year-old don't you think?" I laughed lightly.

She pouted, though the twist of her lips let me know she wasn't really upset by my words. Straitening her spine, she raised her head proudly, "I happened to have learnt on the back of Romeo and Juliet. The inner meanings maybe a little to mature for a child's understanding, but the sophistication and beauty of his words can be understood no matter what the age." She defended.

Her dignified answer made me want to chuckle. "I almost feel sorry for young Chip, as your forcing him to read such a sappy unrealistic romance." I taunted.

Her dropped jaw and gaping mouth were enough for me to know I had gotten her hackles up. Forcing my mouth to stay as straight as possible, I hid my amusement as she began spitting fire at me.

"It is no such thing!" She squealed indignantly. "Romeo and Juliet is more than just a love story, it's about triumphing over hate and embracing ones love completely, no matter how hard or impossible that love seems to be. Romeo and Juliet were raised to hate each other, but they saw passed the discrimination cast by their families and embraced one another. How can you categorize it as simply a 'sappy romance'?!"

 _Damn, she's really serious about this._ I found I was enjoying the way she was talking to me, like she wasn't afraid or wary to speak her mind. Normally, I would never allow anyone of her station to challenge me so forcefully, but I had to admit I had missed seeing that fire burning in her eyes, not to mention how arousing I found this display. She looked like a raging goddess when she was angry, even though what I was seeing wasn't _true_ anger, she was even more beautiful when she spoke of her passion. Wanting to see more of it, and also wanting to draw some attention away from my tightening pants, I scoffed.

"Its a story about two characters whose love for each-other got them killed. Neither of them _had_ to die, but because of stupid decisions and choices the pair of them made, they both ended up killing themselves. How exactly would you define that as 'triumphing' hate?" I questioned haughtily.

She bristled. I could practically see the hairs on her skin standing on end she was so agitated; I was loving every second of it.

" You don't understand. Their love didn't end because they died. Their deaths brought the two feuding families together, and with their peace, came the end of the fighting, and the end of the violence. Perhaps they didn't _have_ to die, but because they _did_ , their love lived on. Through their families and through every other person who would know their story. Shakespeare wanted his readers to know that love can conquer anything, even death."

God, this girl was intriguing. For someone who must have received a mediocre education at best, she sure was good at arguing her beliefs. I couldn't remember ever debating a professor who spoke with half the passion she did. I had to wonder who was the person who taught _her_ how to read, because whoever it was, had installed a heart for it I was certain no one could take from the girl.

Looking the worn pages over sceptically, I asked, "Do you?"

Her face turned from defensive to confused in a heartbeat.

"Do you believe that love can conquer anything?"

I thought I had her stumped then because her determined expression wilted faster than a flower in pouring rain. The strong, confident glare transformed into something reluctant and almost... sad. _What did I say to change her mood so drastically?_

She fiddled with her fingers, her teeth teasing her plump bottom lip. Looking anywhere but at me, she murmured, "I suppose... it's not quite what I believe, its more of what I _want_ to believe. Believing that in death, there will always be new life, is a lot easier than simply submitting to the inevitability that you _will_ die, and the world will just keep going without you. I'm sure most people would prefer to have done something meaningful before they pass, but not all of us will be remembered. Shakespeare is merely giving the people who experience his work, hope, that even if no one remembers them, they won't be forgotten."

I could have sworn I felt a part of my hard heart melt in that moment.

 _What the hell is this girl_ _doing_ _here?_ _She should be teaching in some of the finest schools in the world with a mind like that, not stuck here acting as a personal servant to an undeserving prince!_ _ _Gaston, do you even know what you have trapped in your hands?__

I realised I must have looked a damn fool staring at her as intently as I was, but I just couldn't help myself. She had said it with such gentle passion, I couldn't help but feel there was something far more meaningful behind her words, I just didn't understand it. Just like I didn't understand half the things this girl did. How could someone who had been through so much pain possess such optimism?

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Live each day with this kind of passion? Don't you find it exhausting?" I demanded.

It was a cumbersome silence that followed, but I really _did_ want to know. I had faced several hardships in my life and they had made me bitter, yet this girl had gone through so much and she still found the strength to smile and be kind to everyone. How did she do it? How did she not let all the misery and pressure bury her like I did? I _had_ to know.

The thick tension was cut with a small weighted laugh.

"Life can be difficult and challenging enough as it is Your Majesty. It would only make it worse if you went through life dragging your feet. Its why I enjoy reading so much, because sometimes I need an escape from reality. It doesn't mean that I'm not strong enough to face it, I just... need a little help at times, you know?" She questioned rhetorically, handing me a sad little smile like she pitied me.

 _Is that why she's always reading, because she sees it as an escape from her life here in this castle?_ If so, I didn't blame her. It must have been difficult, sharing a bed with someone you obviously had no feelings for, someone who hurt you. Mulling her words over in my head it made me think... is _that_ why she forgave Gaston? Because she didn't want to live her life 'dragging her feet' in her words. Perhaps she was just trying to make the most of the precarious predicament she was in, and that was why she forgave him. Perhaps that was also why she forgave me.

I hadn't asked her about what had happened, and honestly, I was too much of a coward to bring it up, but with the way she was speaking to me now, with no resentment, no fear, I felt like she could forgive me. For what I did, and what I hadn't done.

And I was feeling morose again.

The sad gleam in her eyes made me want to kick myself. Five minutes ago she was laughing and full of fire, and I had ruined it by getting too personal. But I couldn't help myself. I wanted to know her so badly. To get inside her head and figure out everything that made this strange girl work.

Belle's voice broke through the indescribable awkwardness I had created, "So.. um... what about you?"

"What about me?" I questioned hesitantly.

"If you don't like romance, what kind of books __do__ you like? What are your preferences?"

"Ah," I hummed, my fingers twitching nervously. She was giving me her full attention, but what exactly could I tell her?

"Well, I... I don't really _have_ a preference. I'll admit I don't find much satisfaction in the written word." I told her regrettably. I would have liked to have had _something_ in common with the girl, something of which to build from, but no. As I already knew, we were nothing alike. It was going to be tough getting her to like me.

Gosh, I sounded like a child.

She giggled, like I had confessed something cute. "Then you're in the wrong place." She quipped.

"Am I?" I questioned, raising my eyebrow at her. The smile quickly slipped from her face, replaced with pursed lips and deep red cheeks. Clearly thinking she had offended me, she mumbled a timid, "Sorry."

 _Oh no_ , I didn't want her to go back into her shell again! I was enjoying the way she was speaking to me, as though I were a friend rather than a stranger who had said and done some awful things to her. I didn't want her going back to treating me like a prince. _Quick, fix it!_

"No, don't be sorry. Don't ever apologise for speaking your mind, Belle. If I ask you a question, I expect honesty anyway, even if you think I won't agree with it, all right?"

She looked stunned. I'd guess that was the last thing she had expected me to say, but even in my panic, I was being entirely honest. I wanted to know the real her, not the costume she wore when she was around Gaston. I took it Gaston wasn't a big fan of letting her 'speak her mind,' but then, as I recalled, Gaston was never one for women with 'minds' at all. I wondered if it was really the girl's beauty that had captivated him so, or if there was something else at work here.

"Thank you," She whispered. I merely looked at her.

"Don't thank me, Belle, you have a right to your own mind, and I'd tell you never to try and hide it. And yes, you are correct that perhaps this is not my most favourite of places, but in my defence, I have been reading some exceptionally dull writings as of late, so try not to fault me for not really having an appetite for it." I explained, turning to glare at the stacks of letters currently cluttering the wooden crate on the table. I shivered at the thought of spending another few hours trying to wade my way through another dozen of those things, but I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was still set on my plan of finding evidence of my council's deceit, but it was becoming a more fruitless task with each day that past.

"Dull writings? There's no such thing." She dismissed me.

Incredulous disbelief overcame me. Not giving my actions a second thought, I marched over to the old wooden crate, plucked a letter at random, walked back toward her and thrust it at her. She looked amazed for a moment, before turning her attention to the letter. Taking it hesitantly from my grasp, she unrolled it and started reading. I waited a total of four minutes, just watching her, before she looked back up at me and said, "Well, I stand corrected."

My smug smile nearly broke my face.

"Are they all like that?" She questioned, bobbing her head towards the crate that was stacked to the brim with tightly curled scrolls, some even coloured with the yellow tinge of age. I made a strangled noise of confirmation, staring at the box with disdain. I watched unwaveringly as she marched over to the crate and picked up another letter. Giving me a look as if to ask for permission, I nodded and watched as she unrolled the next scroll. I could see the distant look in her eyes before she had even gotten halfway through. It was the same look I most likely adorned whenever I had been wading through the same persistent droning for too long. I was adamant that whichever member of my council had written these letters would receive the biggest punishment of them all if I could ever find any evidence of their treason.

"That's odd." Belle's confused voice broke through my vengeful thoughts. I refocused to see her still with the letter in her hand. "What's odd?"

"This," She replied, turning it towards me and pointing at the elegantly scribed date at the top of the parchment. Taking a few steps closer, I saw the fancy black calligraphy dated the letter almost a year ago. I didn't find anything peculiar about it, all the letters were exactly the same.

"This letter is dated almost a year ago, and it says that the cost of coal has increased while the supply has decreased, resulting in more of the gold being used for coal than would have normally been allocated." She explained, as if I was misunderstanding the simplest thing in the world. I stared at her stupidly, completely lost.

She huffed, practically waving the letter in my face until I took it from her. I read the passage she pointed at, repeating almost verbatim what she had told me. I didn't understand the significance. I met her irritable brown eyes blankly.

"I don't get it."

She gave me a look I had seen on many of my old tutors as a child. The look that said I was misunderstanding something _painfully_ obvious. The look that told me I would have gotten caned if I hadn't been royalty.

"Well, it's not true." She told me with a slight laugh, "King Silas has been excavating new mines all over this kingdom, so much so that he's starting to become competition for the king of Pierre. In this last year alone he's purchased ten old properties sitting on top of mines and tunnels. I hear them talking about it all the time during dinner. The demand for the machines he sells, especially overseas, has increased dramatically in the last few years, but it hasn't led to shortages. If anything its led to an expansion in coal mining. The fact that this person, whoever it is, is telling you that not only is the supply low but the price has raised? Well, it just seems... odd."

I stared at her, my eyes wide and mouth completely agape.

I must have looked a fucking idiot.

Returning my attention to the letter, I read it more vigilantly this time, putting all of my attention to it.

She was right, it _was_ odd.

Charging back to the worn wooden crate, I pulled out more letters, quickly sifting through them until I had five that were dated within weeks of the one I had clutched in my left hand. They all said the exact same thing; shortages low, price high. It wasn't until I found a letter dated nearly a month later that it informed of the supply going back to normal, but the high price was still apparently the same.

That's when I realised...

I had been going about this all wrong! I had been looking for something obvious. Reading over each letter waiting for something huge to jump out at me not thinking that D'Arque would be smarter than that. He wouldn't have left proof of his subterfuge in plain sight, he'd _hide_ it in plain sight. If he said the price of coal was rising but supply was short when really neither were true, he could have ordered the usual amount for the normal price and hidden the remainder of the funds somewhere else!

 _I am such an idiot! Why didn't I think of this sooner?_

Snapping my head towards the beauty, she was still standing on the other side of the table, watching me curiously. Without thinking at all I charged towards her, gathered her in my arms, and crushed her into a hug.

"Belle, you've done it!" I yelled excitedly, lifting her up in the air and spinning her around, completely oblivious to her utter shock. Putting her back on the ground, I beamed down at her gaping face.

"Thank you so much, you have no idea how long I've been looking for that!"

"Uh..." Came a barely coherent reply.

I couldn't believe it! Thanks to her, I now had the proof I needed! I could read all the letters again, looking for any allegation of extra gold given because of lack of resources or an increase in price. I could even travel to the kingdom of Pierre and request yielding reports from King Alex to prove what my councilmen had told me was a lie! I could do this! Now that I had a place to start looking, I felt a tonne of weight suddenly being lifted from my shoulders. There was no doubt I was grinning like a fool, I was so overcome with joy. Hense why it took me a few moments to really notice that Belle wasn't sharing the same enthusiasm as I. In fact, she looked flabbergasted.

The huge smile slowly melted from my face as I thought about what I had just done. Oh god.

 _You hugged her._

 _You idiot!_

 _You're supposed to be wooing the girl, not humiliating yourself in front of her!_

Launching myself backwards, I clutched at my hair and ran my hands over my clothing in a poor attempt to avoid looking her in the eye. The joy I had just experienced was replaced with so much embarrassment I could feel my cheeks going bright red. _You stupid stupid idiot!_

"Sorry... about that," I mumbled, mortified.

 _Every time your alone with the girl you do something to screw it up! What is wrong with..?_

"It's fine," She took pity on me, her voice as soft and understanding as ever, with an emotion to it I couldn't put a name to. Slowly raising my gaze from the shiny wooden floor I met the brown-eyed angel whose cheeks were lit with the same bright pink I was certain were drenching mine at that moment.

 _Get yourself together. Men don't blush!_

Dragging my hand over my face self-consciously I retreated another step and straightened my spine, hoping that by projecting confidence I could make her forget how much of a child I had just behaved.

"Thank you, Belle, for informing me of this misinformation. You've done me a great service." I said formally. Perhaps a little _too_ formally, but I was hoping she wouldn't notice. Her cheeks bloomed even deeper at my words, her tender eyes beaming up at me as a small smile stretched her rosy lips.

"You're welcome. Again." She breathed.

I was going to gather my things and leave before this became anymore embarrassing. I was going to retreat to my room, kick myself and then hopefully refocus on my kingdoms' problem with fresh hope and a new pair of eyes. But then... I stopped.

I looked her over, this little servant girl. The expensive green silk dress she was adorning hugged every feature of her body alluringly, yet refined. The silk surrounded her shoulders and arms, then fell in a v shape, showcasing her lovely neck to the dip of her breasts in an enticing tease. A thin line of grey fur tipped the sleeves and the bottom of the gown, to be completed with a matching pair of grey fur shoes. Anyone looking at her without knowing her would assume she was of noble blood, but knowing differently didn't make me look down on her. This girl, she held the status of a privileged servant, and yet she had discovered something I had been looking for for weeks in only a few moments. Looking back at the huge crate of tightly sealed scrolls I wondered... two heads _were_ better than one, as the saying went. What if... what if I got her to help me with this? Part of me recoiled from the thought, scolding that I could handle this just fine on my own and to ask a servant for help would be an insult to my family name, but surprisingly, that voice was pretty damn easy to shut up today. She had accomplished something in seconds that I had been trying to do for a month. I was certain, that if I could convince her to help me, I could find every scrap of evidence I needed to take my council down. Uncovering one lie wasn't enough, I wanted to know them all.

But first I had to convince her.

"Belle, if I tell you something, do you swear to me that you will keep it in the strictest confidence?" I asked her hesitantly, feeling sweat gather at the back of my neck, I was so nervous. She looked completely taken aback. By my words or by the gravity of my tone I wasn't sure. Didn't care much either. I just stared at her anxiously, waiting for her reply.

"You want me to keep a secret?" She asked, stupefied.

"Do you promise?" I needed to know she would do this for me. My mind was screaming that I shouldn't be confiding information this personal or vital to _anyone_ , let alone a girl I didn't even know that well. But somewhere else inside me... I believed... my heart... was telling me I _could_ trust her.

I watched surprise turn to curiosity and then caution, her deep eyes assessing me. Her top teeth captured her bottom lip fleetingly before she finally gave me a small nod.

My relief was immense and I proceeded to spill my guts out.

"While I was away, members of my council have been plotting against my crown," I confessed to her effortlessly, watching the astonishment light her whole face. I continued with only a moments pause.

"They have been stealing from me, from my people, and I've been looking for a way to prove it to a grand court. I've been searching through all the letters they've sent me over the last three years, hoping to find the evidence, but I was unable to see anything unusual until now. You found something I couldn't, so what I want to know, is will you assist me in locating every trace of gold these backstabbers have taken?"

Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, as though she didn't quite know _what_ to say. Her face was blank of anything as she stammered, "But... if you know they've been stealing, beyond any doubt, then can't you just... sentence them anyway? Do you really _need_ proof?" She asked, her question sounding as though she were questioning herself as well as I. It wasn't as though I hadn't thought about it, honestly, but I knew it would be a stupid move. I needed the people of my kingdom to trust me as their king and so far I had done a pretty piss poor job of it. Though I was loathed to admit my weakness to anyone, let alone myself, I knew I needed to re-establish the people's faith in me. I also thought the people of my kingdom deserved their own justice for the wrongs my council had committed. I answered her as honestly as I could.

"Belle, you're correct, by my birthright, I could have them imprisoned with only an order, but I do not wish to be seen as a tyrannical king who imprisons anyone he feels deserves it. I want to present my people with the proof of their perfidy and give them a say in what happens to them. It's _their_ money my council have been stealing, so I feel it only fair that the people have a choice in the appropriate punishment for them."

That seemed to stun her more than anything I had said so far. Her big brown eyes glimmered as she stared right through me. Did she think me a fool, wasting all this effort and time when I could have just ordered them all imprisoned? Did she think me a useless King, ignoring my responsibilities and letting things get this bad? I cringed at the thought of her thinking me weak. Nervously, I rubbed the skin of my neck, watching her eyes for any sign of resentment or mockery at my incompetence, but her brown orbs simply continued to hold that strange emotion I had no words for. They shimmered with it, almost like she was on the brink of tears. When she finally spoke her voice was soft, "You really mean it, don't you? You're really asking me for help? I mean this isn't some kind of..." she trailed off, dipping her head to her shoes as though she were a child being caught doing something naughty.

I heard what she hadn't said.

She was worried this was a joke. A game I was playing with her, because I had made it very clear in the past that I didn't like her or trust her. My mind went back to the shouting match we had shared in the basement and I nearly cringed, remembering all the filth I had spewed and the names I had called her. Of course, she would think I was trying to trick her.

"Belle," I said as gently as I could, trying to get her attention. I failed.

"Please, Belle. Look at me."

Her gaze snapped to mine with the speed of a retracting elastic band. Whether for my words or the pleading that had overcome my voice. I never pleaded with anyone. Only her.

"This isn't a game or a joke. I know I've been unkind to you, and because of that you have no reason to _want_ to help me, but I'm... _asking_ you to." I struggled to put my feelings into words.

"The welfare of my kingdom is extremely important to me, but I've been attempting to keep this matter private, and therefore haven't asked anyone else for help. But I'm asking _you_. You found this," I held up the letter, the first bit of evidence I had, " in two minutes when I've been looking for weeks without success. I have hundreds of letters just like this, and though I've read through most of them, I couldn't find what you did. I'm... _requesting_ your assistance in helping me bring justice to my people and prove without any doubt that my councilmen are guilty of treason. It will be a difficult job, I will ask for a lot of your time and I would also ask that you not share any of this information with anyone. That is why I am _asking_ you. Not telling you or demanding you, but simply _asking_. Will you help me?"

The long pause that followed my speech was crushing, so much so that I couldn't even bring myself to look at her. I was staring at her face, but my eyes were blurred and unfocused, unwilling to see her rejection. It would only be right that she reject me. What reason would she possibly have to help me? I had been cruel to her and demeaned her and treated her like she was nothing, and now I needed her help. I felt just like those siblings I had scolded a few hours ago; I had been merciless to her and now it was her turn to do the same to me.

It was exactly what I deserved.

"Yes."


	15. Pierre

Chapter Fifteen - Pierre

 **.**

The carriage rocked northward and steady as I entered the kingdom of Pierre. It had taken a full day and a half to get here, and that didn't include the night I had spent in an inn along the way. Accompanied only by a small contingent of guards on loan to me from Silas, it hadn't been a particularly entertaining or eventful trip, and we were now riding through King Alexander's territory.

Pierre was a rather industrial kingdom. With mines and factories littering practically every acre, it wasn't an especially pretty place, but it _was_ effective. Alexander and Silas did a lot of business together, more so than any other kingdom, since Silas produced some fine machinery which needed vast amounts of coal to function, and Alex needed the machinery _for_ his coal mining. They thrived off each other, Ingénieur and Pierre, even if Silas had been expanding into mining his own land, agriculture was too important to his kingdom and as such would never be capable of outperforming Pierre in the mining field. And since Pierre also mined diamonds and precious stones, I was doubtful Alex saw Silas's expansion as a threat to his livelihood.

I didn't intend to make my visit a long one. I merely wished to go in, ask for the necessary invoices and leave. However, I knew I'd be obliged to stay for a meal and more likely than not a night, making use of a guest room I was certain had already been prepared for my visit. Alex knew I was coming, he just didn't know why. I could only hope he'd be amicable of my wishes and not ask too many questions.

Alexander had been a good friend of my father, though I had spent little time with him myself, I knew the two had gotten along exceptionally well. He had taken his death pretty hard. Out of the blurs of shapes and colours that had been my parents funeral, I clearly recalled the black-bearded, balding, pudgy man grieving as the dirt was shovelled over my father's casket. They had been close friends as children, rather like Gaston and myself, but as they both stepped into the role of king, their friendship had dwindled to professional dealings and treaties. I remembered them sharing a drink or two at parties and celebrations, but other than that their duties to their kingdoms seemed to have forced them apart. Though rather sad, I was hoping his relationship with my late father would give me some leeway with my request. Even though I was nearly king myself, he'd have every right to refuse, so I had been using these last two days while stuck in this cramped 'luxury' carriage to practice every argument I could utilise to sway him should he be reluctant.

It had been five days since I had asked Belle to help me find evidence of my councilmen's treason. Five days where, for a few hours a day, she and I would sit in the library and read through every letter I had received from my kingdom since the beginning of my trip. We had already sifted through a few hundred, separating them into two piles; one of letters filled with everyday, boring rubbish, and the other of letters that had actually contained some rather suspicious content.

The suspicious letters were the ones that often claimed a lack of resource or a temporary increase in price as an excuse for a decreased amount of profit in my kingdoms monthly yielding reports. I had even picked out a letter that claimed a prominent merchant whom we ordered unique crops from overseas, had accidentally overcharged us for several shipments, resulting in an obvious decreased yielding. I already suspected this to be a lie, but contacting the merchant himself might have been a little too risky. I was already taking enough of a risk requesting a meeting with King Alex, though I hadn't dared include any information about _why_ I would be paying him a visit in my letter. There were spies everywhere, my own father employed spies, and I did not want to risk information that sensitive falling into the wrong hands. I didn't want my councilmen to find out I knew what they had been up to, because I suspected, if they _did_ know, they'd attempt to do something stupid... like run.

As the carriage full of guards rode through the gates a few miles ahead, I took in the strong imposing masterpiece of Alexander's impressive palace. High cascading towers, black polished marble walls and gigantic sparkling pillars took an impressive chunk of the enormous 300 acres of land his home sat upon. Even though I had been birthed and raised surrounded by all kinds of royalty, I had to admire this place. Riding past many exceptionally detailed stone statutes as well as intricately decorated fountains I suddenly found my hands begin to twitch. I was nervous.

I wasn't used to feeling this way, particularly not over something I had done dozens of times before. I had bowed before a hundred kings and I hadn't been this frazzled, not even as a child. Perhaps because I knew in this instance I was doing this all by myself, not with my father at my back to guide me, or maybe it was simply because I knew I needed this first meeting to go well because I _needed_ something _from_ him. Either way, when I stepped down from the carriage, I expected to be greeted by the king's royal guard to be escorted to his throne room. I expected to walk the line of the throne room alone and present a formal tribute to Alexander, who'd be seated on his throne. I expected to repeat the process I had performed a hundred times in the past.

What I did not expect, was to step out of my carriage and immediately be engulfed in a pair of big, hairy, beefy arms.

"Adam, My boy! How are you?" The large king yelled jovially, crushing me into his oversized body. I stood frozen, awkward and completely fucking useless. I had no idea what to do.

This was the last kind of greeting I'd expect from a king! I hadn't received this kind of greeting from anyone after my return from my travels abroad, and with good bloody reason! Perhaps this level of intimacy was acceptable in a ballroom after a few stiff drinks surrounded by men of equal status, but for a formal reception into a kingdom, this was decidedly... _informal_.

I was completely unprepared, and stood hunched and mortified as the musk of heavy burnt leather assaulted my nostrils; I felt so uncomfortable, I was actually seizing.

Alex must have sensed my reluctance because he let out a booming laugh right in my ear and slammed his hand into my back before releasing my body and holding me at arm's length.

"You've grown my boy! Just look at you!" He bellowed, a chubby-cheeked grin reaching all the way to his squinty bright green eyes. I forced a smile.

"King Alexander, Its good to see you again," I greeted him stiffly, only for the burly bearded man to crack up, chuckling loudly and assaulting my eardrums. This was by far not the greeting I had anticipated.

"None of that formality, young man! I'm a little too far on in life to care for such things! You are nearly a king yourself, so you should address your equals as such! Call me Alex," he cheerfully ordered.

I was... struck dumb.

I hadn't seen King Alexander in years, it was true, but I couldn't remember him ever behaving like _this_. He was so... upbeat, so _happy_. It was so... odd.

I think I'd have a heart attack if Silas ever started acting this way. Was he really _that_ pleased to see me, or had something changed in his life to make him start conducting himself in such an unprofessional manner?

Well, whatever the reason, his new attitude could possibly be used to my advantage. If Alexander was this happy, there was more then a slight chance of me getting what I came for.

"You look so much like your father," Alex said reminiscently.

I couldn't help but smile. I was always proud to be associated with my father.

"Come, young man, you must be starving! I'll have someone escort you to your room so you can freshen up before dinner. Then we can discuss that rather cryptic letter of yours."

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Dinner was surprisingly comfortable. After the rather rambunctious greeting I received, I didn't quite know where I stood in terms of behaving around Alex, but it appeared that a formal dinner with the king was still a formal dinner with the king, and I knew exactly how to dress, eat and act at one of those.

It was afterwards, when the king invited me into his office for an after meal drink, that I started getting nervous again.

While his castle was decisively imposing, his office was rather the opposite. A large sized room, with maroon coloured walls, deep wooden floors and white and black artwork decorating throughout. A large deep red leather padded sofa spread in front of an impressive rich wooden desk. The desk sat before four tall room-sized windows partially covered by thick deep red curtains and decorated with a paraphernalia of scrolls, books and quills. The late evening light shone partially through the windows and multiple candelabras lit the rest of the room. It was sophisticated, yet vibrant.

There was only one piece of the office that held what I imagined was part of the original design. And I found myself standing before it, immersed in so many conflicting emotions.

"I suppose you're wondering why I keep that there," Alexander's calm voice called from behind me. It was the most sombre I had heard him since entering his kingdom, but I wasn't surprised, considering what we were both staring at.

The life-sized painting of a tall, dark man; with dark skin, dark hair and dark eyes glared back at me. Sparing the barest glance over my shoulder, I couldn't help but think this kingdom truly could not have asked for a more different ruler than the Black King.

A cautionary tale for _all_ rulers. The Black King. The most despicable piece of shit to ever sit on a throne.

If anyone ever thought to accuse a king like Silas or my father, or even me, of being harsh and unfeeling towards their subjects, you would only have to look at the blood-soaked legacy _this_ king left behind.

Just thinking about some of the things the king was infamous for made _my_ blood run cold.

He was centuries before my time, but we'd _all_ heard the stories. How he had taken a new virgin bride every night, only to slaughter the poor girl the next morning. How he had taken his kingdom hostage and forced all able-bodied men to join his suicidal army. How he tried to wage war against all three kingdoms surrounding his own, believing himself superior to all other kings and thinking he alone deserved the right to rule this country.

His legacy was indeed soaked in blood. I was rather disturbed it was sitting on this man's wall.

"I keep it as a reminder, Adam. The stain he left on this world affects me even after all this time. My family was still in hiding hundreds of years after his death, all because this one man was so consumed with power he let _it_ consume _him_. I keep this painting here to remind me that none of us are impervious to madness. Whether dressed in rags or dressed in riches we are all equal in sin."

I looked at the descendant of the Black King, a man who had the blood of one of the most evil men in history flowing through his veins. If there was hope for him, perhaps there was still hope for me.

My father raised me to be hard, cold and methodical. I was a failure, I knew that. If I wasn't I wouldn't be here. I was failing in protecting and providing for my kingdom like an honourable monarch does. It made me uncomfortable, standing there. I ran a hand down my face and looked away in disgust.

Understanding green eyes and a glass of thick red wine greeted my retreat.

"Take a seat," Alex said.

I sipped absently, more out of obligation than any kind of want or thirst. Surprisingly, Alex sat himself down on the couch beside me and angled his large body to face me instead of sitting behind his desk. This man just kept on surprising.

"Now, why don't you tell me the real reason for your visit."

A nervous hand rubbed the back of my neck as I drowned the last mouthful of alcohol. I had thought I'd have more time to prepare.

"Well... um... I..." I stammered, not really knowing where to start. In the eyes of my father's former best friend, and a king who had overcome such a brutal lineage, how did I tell him how immensely I had fucked up?

"Adam," He prompted, his voice gently scolding. I almost couldn't handle it, that look of encouragement.

"My council have betrayed me." I blurted out, setting the wine glass down in fear of smashing it between my crushed fists.

His wrinkles collapsed into his forehead as his eyes drew together in confusion. He ladened me with a puzzled glare and I gulped, tightening my jaw in anticipation.

"Continue," was all he said.

"While I was away, my councilmen have been making alterations to my kingdoms laws to cheat the peasants out of taxes they were not obligated to pay. They have been using the earthquake as an excuse to steal this money, but I fear the mutiny started long before then."

Alex rubbed at his bearded double chin and made a subtle nod for me to proceed. My shaking hand reached into the inner pocket of my silk-lined deep blue jacket. From the pocket, I pulled a single stack of letters. Some scuffed and tinged with age, others far more fresh. With shame in my eyes, I quickly handed the tied pile of parchments over to him and watched in concern as he untied the letters and opened one. Unable to keep silent, I started rambling.

"All of those letters were sent to me by my council while I was away, and each of them says something to the effect of blaming this kingdom for lack of produce or an increase in price, as a justification for a decreased amount of gold making its way to my royal treasury. I came here, purely because I need some kind of proof from you, that the information provided to me in these letters is false. I'm not going to let them get away with this!" I declared determinedly.

Alexander had said nothing while I spoke, he hadn't even looked at me. Instead, his eyes skimmed over the short pile of letters I provided him. His pudgy fingers shuffling one behind the other without barely a single glance.

"You have more of these?" His deep baritone questioned rather blandly. I nodded hesitantly.

"I have hundreds, all spanning over the three years I was away. Alex, I came to you, because I need to know if you have any evidence I can use to-"

"Is it just my kingdom?" He interrupted me.

My brow furrowed. I didn't understand.

"What?"

"Is it only my kingdom your council members have placed blame on for your kingdoms' underperformance?" He asked, tone so casual you'd think we were talking about tennis.

"No," I told him rather uncertainly, looking at him strangely. He still hadn't met my eyes, to busy pouring over the letters I was certain he wasn't even reading.

"I see," Alex said, shuffling them back into a neat pile and placing them on his desk. He then finally turned and gave me his full attention.

"Why did you come here, Adam?"

His question threw me for a loop.

"I... I told you. I'm here to get proof..."

"And there was a reason you couldn't have gotten this proof from King Silas?" He demanded, voice verging on bored.

What... what was going on here? He had acted so pleased to see me not even three hours ago, and now he was behaving so... cold. Had I done something? Said something to offend him? Did he not want to help me?

"I... I don't understand. Do you not... _want_ to help me?" I asked him, sweat beginning to bead on the back of my neck. This was _exactly_ what I had been afraid of.

"A true gentlemen will answer a question before asking one of his own, Adam. And I have asked you two. Now I will ask a third. Has your council sent you letters in regards to Silas's kingdom as well?"

I didn't understand what he wanted from me. I came here for his assistance and now I felt like I was playing a game of cryptic riddles. Yes, my councilmen had implicated Ingénieur in their conspiracy as well, but what did that matter to him? I was here about _his_ kingdom, not Silas's!

"Yes, of course. They mentioned everyone. But I don't see how that is relevant right now." I snapped, annoyed. Yes, I was aware getting snarky with a king I had come to for aid wasn't exactly the most strategic of moves, but he wasn't making any sense. Why would he ask me why I was here? I had just _told_ him why I was here.

"It's relevant young man. I suppose I am just a tad confused as to why you would travel all the way here just to ask me for help you could have easily gotten from Silas. You are staying in his castle, correct? Wouldn't it have made more sense to confide in him and save yourself the hassle of coming here, risking being discovered which was the feeling behind your cryptic letter I presume, yes?"

His tone of voice made it all sound less like questions and more like he was simply stating fact. I squirmed on the expensive leather. What did he want to hear?

"I... didn't want to go to Silas with this. I didn't want to bother him-"

"But you wished to bother me?" He interrupted again, his chubby plump face so fixed in a straight line I had not the slightest idea what he was thinking at all. I was fucking clueless.

"I... I just wanted..."

"Adam." He held up his hand, stopping my stuttering immediately. He looked me right in the eye, green irises boring in. "Why did you come to _me_?"

And then finally, I believed I understood what he was trying to say.

It _would_ have been more convenient to go to Silas, Alex was right. Not only was he sleeping in a bedroom two floors from where I was staying, but he and my father had done a great deal of business with one another, almost guaranteeing his assistance. Silas would have been the logical choice, yet I hadn't thought twice about loading up a carriage and staying on the road for days all to come and see _him_.

And that's when it finally hit me. The definitive factor in _all_ of this.

"You knew my father the most Alex. He and Silas had a good professional relationship but you... you were his friend. You're right. I didn't just come here for invoices. I came...I _need_... I need some advice."

It was so painful to admit, especially to a king. I cringed at the thought of him thinking me incompetent, but he was right. Internally I thought I knew that the real reason I travelled all the way here instead of going to the most convenient place, was because I needed to know what my father would have done in a situation like this, and Alex... he knew him the most.

"You mean you need _help_." He corrected. I scoffed.

"I'm receiving enough _help_ already. I've been completely useless since my return Alex. The only reason I even know of my councilmen's subterfuge is because I coincidently overheard them talking about it while visiting my kingdom a few weeks ago. I wasn't even the one who found the evidence in those letters. I had to ask a _servant_ for help." I snarled and immediately felt guilty at having spoken about Belle that way.

She had been amazing, helping me, but the fact of the matter was, I should never have _needed_ her help to begin with. Fairalia was _my_ kingdom, and I should have been able to tell something was wrong with it on my own. I shouldn't have needed help.

Almost as though he read my mind, King Alexander glared at me.

"Young man, do you think you are the first monarch in the history of monarchs to ever need help? If that were so, there would be no need for council members. No need for servants, no need for other kingdoms at all. If we all thought ourselves capable of carrying an entire kingdom on our backs alone not only would we all be fools, but liars as well." He scolded. My mind refused to believe it.

"I know, but..."

"Take another look at that portrait Adam. Go on, look," he ordered. My eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the painting of the Black King once more. The man with dead, evil eyes that ripped right into the soul.

" _That_ is the kind of king that never asks for help. _That_ is the kind of king who thinks it weakness to rely on others. And _that_ is the kind of king that would rather burn his own kingdom to the ground than surrender it to another. Is _that_ the kind of king _you_ wish to be?"

"Are you crazy?!" I yelled, jumping up and glaring at him. How could he even _suggest_ such a thing? The Black King forced his soldiers to murder their own children to prove their loyalty to him. Forced women to bear him children while taking children to his bed. Tortured any man woman or child that spoke out against him and nearly destroyed his entire kingdom when he finally realised he could not win the war he had waged. What kind of man, what kind of _king_ , would aspire to be like _him_?

"Adam," Alexander's gentle voice came to me through all my disgust. He stood and placed his hand on my shoulder, staring me right in the eye.

"It's alright to admit you need help. I am ashamed that I never got you to admit it before you fled your own kingdom. I was so bereaved over your father's death I had no time to feel sympathy for anyone else. And by the time I thought to go to you, it was too late. You were already halfway across the world and I had no idea it would take you so long to come back. But you're _here_ now. You can take control of your kingdom, and you can save your father's legacy before it falls to tatters just like my ancestors did."

I felt my eyes begin to sting, but I was practically wrestling the tears away. I could not cry, not before another king! But his eyes; they were so soft, so understanding, so non-judgmental. I looked at him helplessly.

"How am I supposed to control a kingdom Alex, when I can't even control myself? So many... so many things have happened since I came back. Things that have made me question... everything. Things about me, about the kind of person I am, about how many mistakes I keep making. How can I possibly follow in his footsteps, if I'm starting to second guess every choice I make?"

"Don't think that being a king means you won't second guess yourself, Adam. I question my own intellect multiple times a day, every day. I second guess every important decision I make, because I know, that if I don't question myself, then other people will. And don't think for a moment that your father was perfect either, boy. He made mistakes to. The test of a true man, a true _king_ , is to know how to learn from our mistakes, to admit them, and rise above them. You came here, and admitted to my face that you had no control over your council, and do you know what that tells me?"

I shook my head, my face burning red with my effort to keep my eyes dry. Alex laid a soft hand on my right cheek.

"It tells me that you are not only ready to be a mere king. It tells me you are ready to be _a man_."

One silent tear flowed down my face. "I miss him," I admitted. His sad smile broke.

"So do I."

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

It was hours later, I was lying on the guest bed and I still couldn't sleep. He had touched a nerve, Alexander. My father, he had never been much of a father, but he was my idol. My teacher. My King. Everything I learned about being a ruler, being a man, I learned from _him_. Why did he have to die?

Every man had his day. Every life had its course. But it had been so sudden, so fast, so unexpected. I had anticipated him being here to guide me. At seventeen, I was nowhere near ready to be without him. I was cocky and confident and felt like I was already ready to take my kingdom by the reins, but the fact was, whenever I imagined myself leading my kingdom, I _always_ saw him in the shadows. Advising me, directing me, making sure I succeeded the way he always had done. To lose him so quickly, and so unexpectedly, in such a stupid, mediocre way... it wasn't fair.

It surprised me, in a way, how I was so desperate to be close to him I had unwittingly searched out his best friend. Alexander; he was such an abnormal king. Thinking of my father and thinking of him, they were as different as night and day, and yet they stayed together. I knew my father would be ashamed of how horrible I had let things get, but Alex, he seemed to understand. With the way Alex had talked, I couldn't help but feel like my father must have come to him for advice at one point as well. And thinking about it now, I truly wasn't surprised. He may have been odd, but out of all of us, Alexander truly possessed the most tenacity.

He was right when he said that his ancestors had been hunted. So disgusted was the world at the legacy the Black King left behind, every king in this country, including my ancestors, vowed to cut every single festering branch from that rotten tree. Unfortunately, that meant exterminating every child that had the misfortune of being fathered by the man. Yes, the Black King had done some truly repulsive things, but in their effort to defeat their enemy, they had all came excruciatingly close to becoming just like him.

The Night Of A Thousand Tears was a dark day that marked history. A day where innocent women who were taken from their husbands and forced to bear heirs for the king, had their children slaughtered because of the 'contaminated' blood. Though it was named a night, the hunt went on for weeks. After the three separate kingdoms defeated the army of Pierre – which was, in my opinion, five years to late - the Black King, knowing he was done for, set himself on fire rather than meet his fate at the hands of his enemies. The armies reached the castle just in time to see it consumed in flames. The Black King was so determined to win a war or die trying, he refused to let any other man keep what he couldn't have. Hundreds of innocent people died in that fire. People he had taken hostage in his castle hours before the flames went up. I had read some of the accounts of what the soldiers saw that night. Read the handwritten description of my great great great great grandfather, as he smelt the sear of burning flesh and fought through the flames with his troops to save as many screaming helpless victims as possible. It was Gaston's ancestor who had found the king, set alight on his own throne. He had sat there, perfectly still while the flames licked at his skin, just so all his enemies could see that even in death, the evil bastard was proud of his reign as king. The monarchs were so angry at his sheer audacity, The Night Of A Thousand Tears ensued.

It took years to recover and rebuild. The kingdom of Pierre was lost, shattered to the core, and without leadership. No one recovers from something so horrific overnight, and the peasants had been hurt the most. They had suffered under that lunatic for years while my ancestors wasted time trying to solve the problem diplomatically, fearing only what war would do to _their_ people and _their_ kingdoms. I had criticized their cowardice, the first time I had ever been told the story, but my tutor had only told me that life was far more complicated than charging head first into vicious conflict. I had never been at war, and I prayed that I never would be, but I hoped that if that time ever came, I'd be man enough to do what was right, instead of what was easy.

Alexander's great great grandfather was lucky to have survived, really. His mother had managed to flee before the fire was set and hid him away while other children lost their lives. It was decades later when the kingdom had retrieved its stability and the kings recognised what mistakes they had made, that it was safe to come out of hiding. After that, it hadn't taken long for the rightful heir to be placed on the throne. It had caused a great deal of controversy, especially amongst the peasants who were old enough to remember the devastation the Black King left behind, but the kings defended their choice. Sometimes, it is only from the ashes, that the brightest flame will rise.

And rise it had. Alexander had made this kingdom into a prosperous success. Built a kingdom that was driven to the future, not hiding in its dark, bloody past.

But it was my present I was concerned with now, and right now, it was clear I wasn't about to get any sleep.

Throwing the covers back, I made my way over to the balcony. Despite how industrial the kingdom was, it held a certain charm. Tall buildings and chimneys churning out smoke as far as the eye could see, and still, it was difficult to guess that smoke had once risen for a completely different reason. This kingdom was strong, from top to bottom, from its king to its labourers, everyone played a part in driving this land to the future. I sincerely hoped my kingdom would do the same after I revealed my mediocrity.

There was still so much I was so uncertain of. After I was rid of my deceitful council members, what would I do then? First, I needed to make sure that I was punishing the right people, because there was a chance - a slight chance, but a chance - that not _all_ of them were guilty. Then, when I had charged the guilty accordingly, I'd need to employ a new council. Who could I trust? Traditionally it was the members of councils' children that took over once their parents had stepped down, but I couldn't do that in this instance. Once I was one hundred percent certain on all of the traitors, I'd have to imprison them, and then find a way to deal with their families. As much as I would not want to judge a son for the sins of his father, I couldn't have someone working on my council who would most likely resent me for sending their parent away. I needed people who are loyal, and honest. It truly baffled me, my father's choices, but then I knew that D'Arque would never have done to my father what he had done to me, purely because he knew there was not a chance in hell he would get away with it. My father had been strong, intelligent and fierce. I could only hope to be half the leader he was once I was seated on that throne.

I could only hope.


	16. When It Rains It Pours

When It Rains It Pours

.

"Have a safe journey back, you hear me?" King Alexander demanded.

After my heart to heart with him last night, I definitely felt lighter, and more prepared to face what was coming. I hadn't only gained the proof I needed of my councilmen's deception, but I had also gained a strong powerful ally. Alexander had imparted some great wisdom to me, and I was more relieved than ever that I had come to him instead of Silas.

I knew I made the right choice. Silas would have helped, I was sure, but I was also certain that my original fears would have been correct. That he would have assisted me, but he also would have criticized me, and it wasn't as though I didn't deserve it, but I certainly felt a hell of a lot stronger to receive encouragement for once.

For the first time in a long time, I felt proud of myself for something. I had made the effort to come here and it had paid off, because I had reached a part of my father I was certain I would never see again, and it was all because of the man standing before me now.

I bowed to him as a symbol of respect and smiled as he held out his hand for me to shake.

"Your father would have been proud of you Adam. Never doubt that." He told me sincerely, squeezing my arm encouragingly.

"Thank you." I truly hoped my gratitude came through in that moment because I had no idea how to possibly put it into words.

Another uneventful few days and I was riding down the courtyard of Silas's castle, thinking over everything that had happened during my visit. Pierre was a strong kingdom, with a strong king at its peak. Blé and Ingénieur were both about to take new leadership from princes with their fathers behind them, and then there was Fairalia. A kingdom that had been without a king for far too long. I was ready for this. In only a few short months my coronation day would be upon me, but I still had so much to do before that day arrived. But I was ready. Ready for anything.

The next day, I sat in the library waiting for Belle. She had seen me at dinner yesterday evening, so I hoped that she would know to come to me rather then me having to seek her out. I had only been waiting for about ten minutes when my eyes found the clock. Fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, twenty-five. We normally met the same time every day, but as the second hand ticked by one dozen, two dozen, three dozen times, I started to worry that she wasn't coming. That maybe being away for five days had made her forget all about me. I was fidgeting in my chair, and then I started pacing, and then I looked over at the crate of remaining letters thinking perhaps I should simply start without her, but the mere thought of tackling those letters all on my own gave me a massive headache. Just having her here, doing it with me made it all so much easier. She made the task that much more bearable with her gentle encouragement and determined nature. Pretty soon I was simply staring at the door. She was over an hour late, and couldn't fathom _what_ she could be doing that would be more important than helping me.

I was getting aggravated, and wringing my hands as I sat in my chair thinking I was just about ready to charge through the castle in search for her, when the double doors finally opened.

In she came, her hair frazzled and her dress askew. She definitely looked like she had run here, but as I watched her rapidly fix herself up I couldn't help but be the slightest bit suspicious.

"Sorry, I'm late. I had to get Gaston's permission to come in here." She panted breathlessly in explanation, quickly taking her usual seat opposite me. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"And that took nearly two hours?" I asked, or more like demanded, unable to keep my irritation out of my voice. She blushed, literally turning as red as her dress. She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth before muttering a quiet, "Yep."

Her subtle action drew my attention to her lips, and I noticed something rather odd. They weren't quite as perfectly pink as they usually were, in fact, they looked rather red and sore. And taking a closer look at her, I noticed that wasn't the only thing out of place. Her hair was messy and her clothing rumpled, what on earth could she possibly have been..?

Oh.

 _That's_ what took her so long.

An uncomfortable feeling bubbled in my belly at the thought of the two of them... doing _that_... not an hour before she came to see me. It made me feel like I was second priority. Like I was just someone she was forced to deal with after being with _him_. I didn't know why, but thinking about it that way made an unpleasant unnameable feeling boil in my chest. Did she not want to be with me after all? Did she prefer his company to mine? Did she..?

"Why don't we get started then. Was your trip successful? Did you get everything you needed?" She asked me hastily, interrupting my rather uncomfortable thoughts and easing away the incredibly awkward moment.

I buried myself in work for the next few hours, desperate to get back to some kind of normality after thinking about the two of them... together. I showed her the invoices that Alex had provided for me, and she was pleased I had managed to obtain a little more proof for my case against my council. It was true that with the evidence I had, I could easily shut them all down here and now, but as I had told Belle only a few days before, I wanted to know every single lie. I wanted to be able to throw it all in D'Arque's face while the rest of my deceitful council watched him flounder. I wanted to punish them all for thinking they could get away with this, and for thinking that I was so incompetent that I'd never catch their treason. I could not wait to see the looks on their faces when they realised I was indeed my father's son.

And if I were being entirely honest, I wanted an excuse to keep spending time with _her_.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today." I reluctantly declared, throwing another stack of parchment into the crate. Her sigh of relief made me feel slightly guilty that I was burdening her with such futile work that was ultimately my responsibility, but I couldn't bring myself to feel _too_ guilty about it. I knew I would never have gotten this far if it weren't for her involvement, and I also knew that without the excuse of helping all the innocent people in my kingdom who were suffering from my councils' tyranny, she wouldn't have agreed to spend practically every day with me. Not that I didn't care about the peasants, it was just that, getting revenge on D'Arque for making a fool out of me was still at the top of my priorities list.

She stood and spent several moments cleaning her side of the table, before prancing over to the shelves on the far side of the library. I watched in confusion, and then astonishment, as she skipped right back over, a big brown leather bound book under her arm.

 _Seriously?_

"What?" She asked, acting completely oblivious to my amusement.

"We've been sitting here for hours, I tell you we're finished, you act so relieved and then you go and pick up a book?" I chuckled. Her ears turned pink and she looked away in embarrassment.

"Fiction is different than all of this." She defended, using her hand to motion towards the stacks of letters we'd been sifting through. While I didn't doubt that _anything_ would be more entertaining than reading through gallons of tedious reports, I just didn't understand her thirst for literature. Didn't she ever get tired of staring at those boring old printed words?

"Why do you love reading so much?" I asked for the umpteenth time. I had already questioned her on this before but I had to think there was something deeper than a simple need for escape. She was always burying her nose in those things, and since it was apparently such an important part of her life, I wanted to understand where the passion came from. It was about the only definitive thing I knew about her for sure. Everything surrounding the girl was ambiguous but this one thing I knew. She loved reading; now I just wanted to know _why_.

She gave me a slight shrug of her shoulder, some of her soft chocolate hair falling down her face. She tucked the offending locks behind her ear and looked at the table as she quietly replied, "My mother loved to read. She taught me how. I guess... reading is a way for me to keep her close to my heart."

I froze. I didn't think she even understood the significance of what it was she had just said. From the very night I met her I wanted to know more about her, but the mystery surrounding her life was just that... a mystery. She never spoke about her life before she came here, never touched on anything personal. And now she had just shared something _deeply_ personal, and she was behaving as though it were no big deal. So, her mother taught her how to read, huh? And judging by the way Belle had spoken, I'd presume that the past tense was used for a reason. Would she share more about her life if I asked, or should I try a more strategic approach? I was never so close to getting answers from her then I was in this exact moment. Perhaps if I acted as though I didn't really _care_ , she wouldn't see just how desperate I was to know her story, and how she came to be here in the first place.

"You were close with your mother?" I asked her cautiously, forcibly casual, never straying my gaze from her. She kept her face downcast, and I wanted to beg her to look up and share those beautiful eyes with me. Her eyes were always so expressive, holding all her emotions right there on the surface. I wanted to know exactly what she was feeling, and if I couldn't get her to talk, I knew her eyes would tell me _something_.

"Well, yeah. We did a lot together when I was younger. We were really close." She sighed softly, a small reminiscent frown marring her forehead. When she was young, did that mean they weren't close any longer, or did she lose her?

 _Please, for the love of god please tell me something!_

"But I guess that's nothing special," She suddenly came out with, straightening in her seat, "After all, who isn't close to their mother?"

"My mother hated me."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Wh-what?" She asked; bewildered.

I had no idea what made me say it, and she appeared just as shocked as I was. _Dear god, what did you just do?_

"Nothing, forget I said anything," I mumbled, sinking in my seat, completely mortified.

 _You were supposed to be getting her to talk about_ herself _, not exposing your feelings for that cow! Idiot!_

"What... no-no way! You cant say something like that and just-"

"Belle, just drop it, alright!" I snapped. She shied away from me immediately, perhaps remembering just _who_ it was she was talking to. She froze, tensed, her eyes widening in something akin to fear before she hid behind her flowing chestnut hair.

"I'm sorry," came a fragile whisper. I sighed. I really hadn't meant to snap.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice. I'm sorry I scared you." I stuttered, still reeling from how unnatural that one word sounded on my tongue. It seemed to do the trick though, as she peaked at me behind her brunette shield, the long strains cascading away as she turned back to me. It looked like she was thinking deeply, from the set of her eyes I could tell she was debating with herself internally. Perhaps she was considering simply gathering her things and leaving me, for I knew what she had experienced at the hands of angry royalty. I didn't want her to go if I could convince her to stay, but the atmosphere was so heavy now. No longer relaxed and comforting. And it was once again my fault.

 _You just_ had _to bring_ her _up, didn't you? You_ know _nothing good ever comes when thinking about your_ mother _!_

I had never expressed the brunt of my resentment with anyone. No one had ever known how much misery that woman had caused me. I had always been too ashamed to talk about it, and after twenty years of silent suffering, a few minutes alone with her and I was spilling my guts out. Why was it I always seemed to lose my head whenever she was around?

"Your Majesty?"

I looked into her warming eyes, secretly adoring the concern lighting in them. No one ever cared enough about me to be concerned, and I was torn between loving that she seemed to care enough to feel that way and hating that she had to feel concerned at all. I should have been a rock, yet she alone had seen me crumble a dozen times. I hated always being so weak around her. _Maybe that's why she likes Gaston more, because he acts like a_ real _prince._

"I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries but... you can talk to me you know? I _am_ a pretty good listener. Even Gaston would say so." She told me, as though reading my mind. My eyes widened at her claim, now _that_ was surprising.

"Gaston shares personal things with you?" I asked disbelievingly.

She pulled a face. "Well, he's not really the emotional type," _That_ was an understatement, "but... he talks about his father, well, _rants_ about his father, to be more accurate, and he talks about his upcoming role as king and how all these new responsibilities make him feel and... a whole bunch of stuff. You don't have to be embarrassed to talk about these things. And you don't have to worry about anything you say leaving this room. You can trust me." She tells me with a small (hopeful?) smile.

I really didn't understand this girl, not one single bit.

I knew I could trust her, that wasn't the issue, the problem was, could I trust myself?

I was never one to sit still and talk about my feelings, what's more, I doubted anyone would genuinely want to _listen_. I was certain she was only offering to be polite. Who would really want to sit and hear a grown man whine about how his mummy never loved him?

Even if she did want to... you know... know me better, could I really open up that wound again. It was closed, over, finished. My mother and father were dead, and they could no longer interfere with my life. I was completely free of them.

But even as I thought the lie, I knew it to be so. They were still here in my mind; whispering, criticizing. Even after all this time, I could still hear my father's judgemental voice and my mother's patronising tone, telling me how to act, telling me I was screwing everything up. There was never any peace from them. My father had always behaved like he knew what was best for me, but had never shown any _real_ interest in me until I was around fifteen. And as for mother, well, she never showed any interest in me at all. It was only a few months after their death I finally understood _why_.

But even knowing the truth didn't make it sting any less. I wasn't overexaggerating; she hated me. And even though I always acted like I hated her in return, I had to admit... that...

Urg! I couldn't do this, I couldn't sit here and wallow in self-pity, besmirching my title by crying over my past! I was supposed to be strong! Why couldn't I just be the son my father always wanted me to be?!

"Adam?"

My head shot up immediately, so fast it hurt. I looked at her with wide, spangled eyes, hoping I hadn't imagined what I just heard.

"Adam, are you alright?"

There it was, she had finally said it: my name. Never had it sounded so sweet as it did on her lips. Even marred and fraught with worry, her sweet harmonies caressed the word, and I'd never been so happy to hear it.

"You... you said my name," I whispered in awe.

 _I guess she does trust me after all, at least to some extent, or she would never have said my name. She trusted me not to rage at her or accuse of her of_ _informality_ _. She trusted me._

 _Maybe the key to gaining more of her trust is to give her a little trust in return._

I had admitted my mothers feeling towards me, and was rewarded by her addressing me like a friend, an equal. Like _him_.

Maybe... if I shared a little more... I could get a little more in return.

Her shy, tender expression had me gulping in consternation. How much was I really willing to divulge to this girl? _That_ was the question.

My fingers twitched, lacing and intertwining as though I were a boy approaching his sweetheart for a dance. I was sweating. I couldn't. I just coul...

"It's alright, Your Majesty. You don't have to say anything. I shouldn't have intruded in your private life. I should probably g-"

"She never wanted me, she never wanted either of us, but... especially not me." I blurted out, fearful of her finishing her sentence.

Her eyes widened for only a moment, mouth still open from her interrupted speech, looking stunned at my second unexplainable outburst of the hour, before it creased in a frown as her lips stretched in confusion.

"Why would she not want you?" Belle asked gently, though gingerly, as though she were afraid I'd lose my temper again.

 _I could do this. For her._

"You know that most royal marriages are arranged, right? Well, my mother and father were paired together by their parents, and neither of them wanted the other. But there was more to it than that. My father was actually in love with another woman, and my mother obviously didn't want to spend the rest of her life with a man who couldn't love her fully. But their parents insisted, and my father would never have become king had he went against his own father's wishes, so... they were wed. On the night of their wedding, the woman who my father had been forced to leave was so distraught by what had happened... that she killed herself. Hung herself the very day of the wedding. And they never forgave each-other."

Belle looked completely enthralled at my reveal, "What do you mean they never forgave each-other? I mean, I can maybe guess why your father would have blamed your mother, even if she wasn't at fault, but why would _she_ blame _him_?"

I sighed. I was really going to do this, wasn't I?

"Because, the woman who my father loved, the woman who ended her life because of their wedding... was her sister."

"Sister?" She gasped.

"Sister," I confirmed solemnly. The look on her face mirrored how I first felt, completely.

"I can't imagine how much pain she must have felt, but of course it got worse for her. They had consummated their marriage before either of them had found out what had happened, and by the time the funeral was held and she was already contemplating running away from it all, she... found out about me. And she hated me from the very start."

I tried to keep my voice from shaking. _Just talk like you're telling a story,_ I told myself.

"To her, I was just an anchor, a shackle that kept her bound to my father. He might have let her leave if she was leaving on her own, after all, he had never loved her. But she knew he would never let her go if she was carrying his child. His heir. So she stayed. Gave birth to me, and tried to go on with her life. But she never acted as a mother to me. I was always just a reminder of the thing that forced her family apart. She never treated me like her son, and she always made it abundantly clear to me that she wished I wasn't. She took her anger out on me, knowing she'd never get away with doing it to my father. And as my father was never really the loving type, I spent most of my childhood, pretty much alone."

She looked devastated for me. Honestly, I wasn't angling for her pity, but her beautiful brown eyes were sparkling with compassion at my words. It touched something deep in me to think that she cared, even a little bit.

She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it and bit into her lip. Finally, she relented; "Can I ask..how did they die?" She whispered hesitantly. I was actually surprised she didn't already know, since the news of my parents' death had spread across the world. But I felt compelled to answer her, my voice monotonous as I re-lived the dark memory.

"They were invited to a party. It was late and it was raining and they were on their way home when they got stuck on a bridge. The rain was coming down so hard the driver couldn't see a thing, then a bolt of lightning spooked the horses, and the next second, the carriage was in the river. They were found a few days later, still in the carriage. They had both drown.

"When they told me, I... I didn't believe them. My father, he wasn't much of a father but he was a strong man. A brave man. Courageous, a warrior, and the idea that he could die like that, by drowning? I couldn't believe it. It wasn't until they showed me their bodies that the truth finally sunk in."

"How did you find out about it?" She breathed so gently I thought I'd imagined her speaking. But I answered anyway, forcing my eyes to stay dry.

"The driver. He survived. They found him a few miles up the river from where they found my parents. He was alive, but barely. Spent weeks in the hospice before he was fit to talk, and he requested to see me before he even asked for his family. He said I had the right to know how my parents lost their lives. Good man." I said absently.

"After that, everything was a haze. I don't remember much about their funeral, I don't remember much about the first few months, it's all just kind of a blur. It was when my council suggested that I host the spring festival ball in honour of their memory that things started to sharpen up a bit. I was completely on board with the idea at first, a ball to honour them, and make them proud, for once. But it didn't quite go as planned. I went through everything, every little detail. Made it as extravagant as possible because I thought _that's_ what they would have wanted. And then the night came, and all through the ball, hundreds of men and women stood up and spoke about what wonderful _monarchs_ my parents were, and how they would be so missed and how everyone could only hope to be half the rulers they were in centuries to come. And do you know what I realised Belle?"

She shook her head. Gazing unwaveringly.

"It was all _bullshit_. The fancy cutlery and the jewel-encrusted napkins and the golden fucking plates, none of it meant anything! Even the people. Every person who spoke for my parents only spoke about what great _rulers_ they were, and how missed the _king_ and _queen_ would be. These people had known my parents all their lives, but none of them spoke about them like they were _real_ people. Because nobody _saw_ them as real people, nobody knew them the way I did. Nobody saw their flaws or their mistakes or the way they treated me. It was all _fake_." I ranted angrily, my throat burning from the exertion. I took a deep breath, running a sweaty hand down my red face. I continued quieter.

"Well, suffice to say I had a little too much whisky, and by the time it was my turn to say something, my comments weren't exactly flattering. I don't remember exactly what I said but I know I humiliated myself. It was the next day my head of council, Monsieur D'Arque, suggested that I take a little time away from my kingdom, just to reflect, and I jumped on the idea.

"I never should have been gone so long. But I didn't want to go back there. Every single memory of them was _there_ , and I didn't want them to stop me from living my life anymore. It's probably why I didn't see the warning signs with my council until I returned, because I was so determined to keep myself as far away from my kingdom as possible I didn't even want to read letters about it. I fucked up Belle. I let them down. Let my kingdom down, and now their all suffering because of me. Because I couldn't be a man, and instead chose to run like a fucking child." I recited scornfully. Disappointment in myself swelling in me with every blasted memory. This was so hard.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, her bright eyes swimming with sorrow. I shrugged my shoulder, trying to appear as though I didn't care. Show no weakness.

"Why, it's not like it was your fault."

"I know but... Adam... have you ever..." She stopped, trailing off and averting her eyes to the waxed wooden floor.

"Have I ever what?" I asked her, suspicious of her sudden silence.

"No, forget it, its none of my business. I'm sorry about your parents"

"Belle," I warned, "finish your sentence."

She squirmed under my gaze, knowing an order when she heard one.

"Have you ever... have you ever loved anyone at all?"

Now that was _not_ a question I had anticipated.

She looked so guilty at having asked me, she wouldn't even look me in the eye and instead masked her face with her hair and shifted her body away. I didn't like it. I meant what I said about her eyes being the windows to her soul. I couldn't stand not looking into them while we spoke, but most of all, I couldn't stand how she looked so scared to ask me a question. I didn't want her fearing me.

"Once," I admitted, internally shaking my head at how easily I had confessed it to her. No one knew about Marie. No one.

"It was a long time ago." I shifted uncomfortably, trying to brush it off, but her inquisitive little eyes refused to waver on mine. If I was honest a part of me was secretly thrilled that she was so interested in learning more about me, But did it really have to be this story? I'd willingly share any other part of my past with her, but _this_ was personal. Not just because I had never shared it with anyone else, but also because of how humiliating it was. Would she still accept me if she knew how weak I had been? How easily manipulated I was?

But then I realised... she _was_ accepting me. She knew I had been deceived by my council, yet she was still here. I had been foul and cruel to her, yet she was still here. Perhaps... acting like the perfect prince... wasn't all that important to Belle. Maybe, all she really cared about was that I acted like a person. I already knew she was an odd girl but was she really so different that she had no expectations of me as a prince at all? I didn't want her to see me as _only_ a prince, I wanted the same close relationship with her she appeared to share with Gaston. And if Gaston could gain enough of her trust after everything he had done to her, well then... I could too.

"Her name was Marie," I said hesitantly. I honestly didn't know how much about her I could tell Belle. I had never told anyone about Marie, not even Gaston. Why would I? I was too embarrassed. But her eyes brightened eagerly that I was speaking about things so personal, and I guessed she, like me, simply wished to be confided in. I supposed if I indulged her, she might feel obliged to do the same.

"I knew her when I was fourteen. Her parents came to our kingdom as ambassadors for a trader we did business with overseas. They were a prominent, wealthy family, or so I believed, and I've often wondered if it wasn't meant as some kind of potential set up between the two of us, but in any case, we grew close. I thought... I _did_ love her, and I made the mistake of believing she loved me back. But it was all just...one big lie."

"What happened?" She asked after several moments of bitter silence. Remembering the Marie I had fallen in love with; the sweet, kind, charismatic, gentle soul who taught me that it was alright to be vulnerable and tender, was completely overwhelmed by her betrayal. Remembering how horribly I had spoken to Belle a few weeks ago, because I refused to believe that any girl could genuinely possess such qualities after _her_ , made me even more furious. The little bitch.

"She tricked me, that's what happened! Her and her _family_. They weren't wealthy at all. They were an old family with a well-respected name that carried a lot of clout, but underneath all the prestige they were approaching bankruptcy, and so desperate to save face amongst their peers they targeted us for money. Us! Our family possessed status well above their own, and they had the audacity to come to our home to extort money out of us! And they whored out they're own daughter to do it." I sneered.

"What do you mean," Belle asked me hesitantly, shock in her eyes at my crass use of language, but I couldn't help it; even after all this time, the wound still stung.

"She seduced me. I thought she was different Belle. Different from all the spoiled, money hungry girls I was surrounded by since infancy. She acted like she cared for me, acted like she understood me, fed me sob stories about how neglectful her parents were and always talked about wanting to be saved. And I played right into her hands. I thought I was the one who was going to save her. I thought we were going to be together. Made her all kinds of promises and... believed them. I was even contemplating asking her father for her hand... before everything just fell apart."

My voice shook, but Belle's gaze hadn't wavered from mine, not once. I could tell she was fully enraptured, but by what, I didn't know. My self-pity? The rare emotion I was showing? The fact that I was sharing the darkest secrets of my past as casually as you please? Whatever it was, I felt like I couldn't stop, though I wanted to. The words kept leaking out, like pus from an open wound.

"You see, my family had a secret. A secret that not even I knew, until her. One night she came to me, and by then I was so... so enchanted by her, I would have done anything she asked without a moment's hesitation. So when she asked me to show her the west wing, a part of our castle that had always been forbidden, even to me, I didn't ask questions. I stole my fathers master key from his office, and we went exploring, but I had no idea what it was I was going to unleash. There was only one door in the whole hallway, all the others had been shut up, and I thought that was strange, really I had a bad feeling the whole time, but she was acting so... excited, I just kept shrugging off the urge to turn back. I used the key to open the door and... well... turns out I was right. I wasn't prepared for what I stumbled on.

"My mother always told me I didn't have any grandparents, but that night only confirmed what I knew about her all along. She was a liar."

A quick gasp almost drew my attention away from the polished wood of the large oak table, but I didn't look up. I didn't need to see her reaction when I revealed my failure.

"My grandmother was in that room. But she wasn't... normal. Her body was all crooked and bent out of shape. She was shaking violently, foaming at the mouth, strapped to a chair while two men held her down. It was... terrifying. Not least because the longer I looked, the more I recognised her. She had my mothers' eyes, the eyes my mother passed on to me. And I knew...

"Well, Marie couldn't handle it, in fact, she ran through the castle screaming, woke our parents up. And when she started yelling about 'a witch' it was like my mother's world just crashed around her feet. She saw me holding the key, and she knew it was me, and she glared at me like _I_ was the one in the wrong, when she was the one who had lied to me my whole life. But it wasn't just that. I knew the woman I had just seen was my grandmother, but... how long had she been there? Locked up, underfed, kept away in a dark room with no family and only strangers to look after her? I didn't understand how even my mother could be so cruel.

"Well, it turned out it wasn't just my mother who had been keeping things from me. My father was just as guilty, and he wanted it kept a secret just as much as she did. I was so filled with anger and disgust... at the pair of them. How could they do this? How could they lie to me for so long? I was glaring at them the entire time my father was paying Marie's parents off. Had a binding contract ready to go, our money for their silence. I couldn't even look at them. I went to Marie, hoping that she'd be the one person I could share my pain with like she had always done with me, but no. She ran from me. Told me she loved me but couldn't stand to be in the same home with me after everything she'd learned. It was like... what we had... meant nothing. That in the blink of an eye she transformed from a nice, caring person into another superficial, shallow selfish bitch I had spent my whole life trying to avoid. But I still didn't want to let her go. I ran after her, but she got away, and I spent months trying to forget how special she made me feel.

"Then, one day a while afterwards, my father called me to his office. My mother was there, which I found odd, considering she'd been doing her best to completely ignore me since her secret was exposed. What unsettled me even more was the smile she had on her face. It wasn't a happy smile, it was one of those ugly things, smug and condescending, and I watched her as my father told me to sit down.

"He revealed that he had moved one of his spies into Marie's household posing as a common houseworker, just to ensure that the family kept their mouth shut like they promised. And apparently, he had contacted my father after overhearing a very interesting conversation.

"He heard them planning to 'target another family' because 'the money was running out again.' They knew. They knew Belle. I don't know how, but they knew my grandmother was in that house, or else knew that my family was keeping something sinister locked up in that wing. They led Marie in to gain my trust because I was the easiest one to manipulate. She manipulated me. The whole time I thought I was falling in love, and she was only playing with me. And I didn't even contest it as the truth, because I knew... of course, she had been faking it all along... no one had ever loved me, so why the hell did I think she would be any different."

The memory left a bitter taste in my mouth, especially recalling my mother's eyes glittering with cruel victory as she watched the devastation flash across my face. It was only a flash, I had kept the rest in until I retreated to my room, where I proceeded to tear apart any piece of furniture that wasn't bolted to the floor. I turned hard that day, the last day in years I would ever shed tears. And I made a promise to myself that if I ever saw that lying whore again, I would make her pay.

"And I did," I finished my thought aloud, my snarl twisting into a merciless grin as I recalled my revenge. She had gotten exactly what she deserved.

"Did what?" Belle's soft, confused voice floated from somewhere across the room, but I didn't look up, sunk into a murky haze of memories.

I spoke without thought.

"I got her back. I always swore if I met her again, I'd make her suffer for everything she did to me, so when I met her a few years later it was like God was handing me a gift. And I didn't waste it.

"It was towards the end of my travels. I had visited so many different kingdoms in my effort to avoid home, I had no reason to suspect this one would be any different, but it was. I was staying with a king in the east, and he invited me to an engagement party that was being hosted for his royal vizier, who was engaged for the sixth time. He was as crooked as you came that man. Old and fat and completely vile, but the way he stared at women let me know there was no dignity about him. He talked about his fiancée all night, and spoke of her like a piece of meat. Bragging about her body and how much fun he would have with his 'virgin slut' come their wedding night. The king was almost as bad, and to be honest, I wasn't entirely comfortable with the whole thing. I was thinking up some excuse to leave when the trumpet sounded across the room, and a man announced the arrival of the vizier's intended. And she walked through the doors and... I couldn't believe my eyes.

"There she was, the girl I loved. The girl I offered the world too. The girl who betrayed me; standing there in a light blue gown looking as innocent and magnificent as ever. I couldn't believe it at first, I kept thinking it _had_ to be a mistake. There was no way she had left _me_ to be with a man like _that_. But when the vizier saw her, he walked right up to her and sucked her tongue into his mouth. Then he started rubbing his hands all over her body in plain view of everyone, and I could tell she hated it. But I wasn't even uncomfortable any more. I was glad. I was so happy to see her, not because of any residual feelings, but because this was my chance to finally get revenge.

"I kept a close eye on her the whole night, discreetly, from a distance; I didn't want her knowing I was there. My plan was pretty simple at first. The royal vizier had introduced her as a virgin and had talked so pridefully about how he was going to be the first to 'tear apart that virgin ass' and other foul things I won't share with you. I thought that if I simply waited for the right time, I'd approach the stage and reveal my past relations with her, ruining any chance she had at marrying the vizier. Because I knew she was only after his money, it was clear he repulsed her, so I could think of no other reason. I saw her go out to the balcony, and I thought... I thought of how satisfying it would be to reveal my plan to her before I told the truth, just to see the look on her face. I went after her, and called her name, and she turned around and looked at me... and her eyes; she... looked... _happy_.

"She looked so genuinely happy to see me, that I knew, I _knew_ she had no idea I knew what she'd done. She had no idea I knew how she lied to me and manipulated me, she just looked... so relieved. And I knew why.

"You see, I always thought that the reason her parents didn't just marry her off to me to get money, was because they were too proud to be discovered as bankrupt, which would have happened if my parents had approved of the merger. Their family name would be ruined, and if my parents did allow Marie and I to move forward with the wedding, they'd always be seen as paupers the royal family was taking pity on. But apparently, the years had made them so desperate for money that their pride meant nothing any more. So I understood why she looked at me like she was so relieved. Obviously, I was the better choice than an old perverted man who treated her like shit. The way her eyes sparkled, she thought I was still in love with her. And I found myself... revaluating my plan."

"Did you help her?" Belle's quiet question brought a maniacal laugh tearing from my throat. I looked up at her, to find her staring at me cautiously. A little pucker between her brows like she didn't quite know how to respond to my mood swings. I shook my head.

"Belle, why would I help her? She betrayed me, used me for money, and she was doing it all over again. I felt no sympathy for the vizier, because I knew he didn't love her like I did. Wasn't _fooled_ like _I_ was, I only planned to make her pay for all she put me through."

"But you said you revaluated your plans..."

"And I did. I wasn't going to make it easy for her. Getting on that stage and revealing her as the deceitful cow she was didn't feel like enough after she looked at me that way. I wanted to hurt her Belle. Hurt her like she hurt me. Make her feel the pain that _I_ felt. So... I played along. Acted happy to see her, expressed my delight, even hugged her, all the while thinking of all the tears she made me shed.

"I acted surprised that she was marrying a man like the royal vizier and of course, like I expected, she broke down. Started crying on the balcony right outside the party, and fed me another sob story about how her _parents_ were _forcing_ her. She even admitted it was only for the money, she had no idea I knew that was the only reason she went after me as well. It made me sick that she was trying to get sympathy from me, but I hid it. I acted like I felt sorry for her and let her cry. And then I took her face in my hands and kissed her. And I felt her surrender.

"The next few weeks we spent sneaking around together. It wasn't my plan to get caught, at least, not at first. I wanted her to trust me, to depend on me. It was difficult, gauging whether or not I was making _real_ progress because I knew what a fantastic liar she was, but I had become quite the actor myself and used every trick in the book to make her love me. Every day she was forced to spend with the vizier was torture for her, and every time she came back to me she'd fall a little further into my arms. All the while I was delighting in her suffering. The more horrible the vizier was to her the better because it made all my loving, caring gestures that much more likely to get into her head. I knew I could make her trust me, but I wanted more than her trust. I wanted to _own_ her completely. Wanted her so dependent on me she wouldn't be able to function once I was gone.

"But we weren't being as sneaky as I would have liked. I was keeping things hidden from the vizier and his minions, but my guards and assistants certainly noticed how frequently she came to my suite in the king's castle. Then I started getting letters from D'Arque requesting my return, and I knew my plan had to come to fruition soon.

"It was the night before their wedding, and I visited Marie at her home, and told her I was there to say goodbye. She started crying and sobbing and begging me to take her with me, but I just kissed her to shut her up. Finally, she simply begged me to spend one night with her, just one last night before she married the vizier and was forced to give her body to him for as long as he wanted it. Well, I obliged, took her right there on her bed, and I could tell, with the way she looked at me, that look of completion in her eyes I could tell... I had cracked her. She loved me. And she thought I was going to save her like I once promised."

I smirked.

"What she didn't know was that I had set the whole thing up. I had actually come along with the royal vizier and had snuck off to her room while he was discussing a dowry with her parents. They all walked in just as we were finishing, and the looks on their faces...

"Well, the vizier stormed out, after declaring the marriage was off as he had no room in his bed for a 'dirty little whore'. He didn't even blame me, put it all on her." I laughed. "And then her parents started yelling at her, screaming that she was a 'stupid child who always ruined everything'. I was just enjoying the show. On and on they went telling her how worthless she was and how they shouldn't have waited so long to sell her off to the highest bidder. The look on her face, she was crying so much her eyes were red, and I was loving it, because it only seemed fair after all the times she'd made _me_ cry. Finally, it seemed she couldn't take it any more and she screamed at them that she didn't care. She didn't care what they thought or what they did from now on. Because she had me. And I couldn't hold it in any more.

"I laughed. Laughed harder then I had in all the years I'd been alive. And they all looked so confused but... especially her. When she asked me what was wrong I just... lost it.

"I told her that she never had me. That she never _would_. That I used her the way a whore was meant to be used and now I was done with her. And the look... the sheer devastation in her eyes... it was priceless. It was exactly how I felt every day since the day she had been gone, like a knife was being repeatedly stabbed in my chest, and I was glad I could be the one holding the knife for a change. I finally got the revenge I wanted and it felt... so good. Just as I was about to leave, I told them I knew what they had done to my family, and I was going to make sure they paid for it. And I walked out to her sobbing."

"The next day I went to the king, who already knew everything and found the whole course of events rather amusing. I explained my disdain for Marie and her family and told him I'd consider it a great favour to me if they were cast out on the streets without a possession to their name, which wasn't very hard considering how far in debt the family already was. He agreed, and I spent the whole boat ride back here rejoicing in the fact that I had finally won."

Silence is what met my long and emotionally volatile story. My eyes were glazed, petrified for how long I had been absently staring at the age lines of wood on the waxed oak table. When my gaze finally refocused, I realised the silence wasn't quite as content as I believed.

Belle was gaping at me.

"What?" I asked her, not understanding the look of horror marring the girl's face. I had just told her a story of great personal triumph. Why wasn't she as pleased as I was?

"Adam... how... how could you... do that?" She gasped out, panting the words in choppy dialogue, as though she were choking on the force it took to get them out. She looked _appalled_.

"I only did what she did to me, Belle." I reminded her defensively, bristling at how she was behaving. The compassion I saw in her eyes earlier had vanished, there was nothing but judgement now. I didn't like it.

"So... she hurt you, caused you all that pain, and to fix it, you do to her _exactly_ what she did to _you_? That's your _justice_?"

"I didn't say it was justice, Belle! Not once did I use that word. It was vengeance, pure and simple! I only gave her what she deserved!" I snapped, her look pissing me off. It was a look I knew all too well but had never once expected it to be emitting from her sweet oval eyes.

 _Disgust._

"So there really was no part of you that loved her? All that time you spent with her, all those... things you did with her and you felt _nothing_?" She demanded, a certain desperation to her tone as though she were begging me to tell her something, but I didn't know what she wanted from me.

" _Love_ her? No Belle, why would I? What kind of man could love a woman who sold her body for _money_? Who could love a _whore_?!"

A sharp intake of breath and a look of complete devastation finally had me back under control.

 _Oh god, what did I just say?_

"Belle," I tried to backtrack, but she didn't listen. She leapt from her chair, charging straight to the double doors, but I was faster. I caught her wrist but as quickly as it was in my grasp it was harshly yanked away.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed, twirling to face me once more. Her eyes were glistening.

"This... this was a mistake, I can't help you any more. I'm sorry." She stuttered quickly, sniffling. She looked as though she were barely keeping herself from bursting into tears, but I couldn't let her just walk away. I had to defend myself!

"Belle please... don't... I wasn't talking about you-I..."

"Goodbye, Your Majesty. Please don't call me back here again." She choked, before flinging the doors open and running out, leaving me wondering what the hell I had just done.

* * *

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Seems like Adam fucked up! Big time! Will he gain Belle's forgiveness? Will he even know what it was he did wrong? Keep following to find out. And just an FYI, my story is now on Wattpad, for all of you readers who like to review every single paragraph rather than the story as a whole. Here's the link

story/144611764-frosted-rose

And just to say that the first few chapters are edited, so it might read slightly different, but only slightly. For now, R&R and until next time.

See ya'


	17. Friends

**Chapter Seventeen - Friends**

.

Fuck, I fucked up.

I had been so drawn into myself when I was telling her my story, I didn't stop and think about how a girl like Belle would perceive it.

And then, I had to go and say it.

 _'What kind of man could love a woman who sold her body for money? Who could love a whore?'_

Belle had to have known I wasn't talking about _her_ , right? She was nothing like Marie. She had to know I hadn't meant her!

 _Sure, that's why she's been ignoring and avoiding you all week._

It was true. She had been avoiding me like the plague. She completely ignored me during meals, even when I tried blatantly to get her attention. If I caught her with the other servants. She'd always make up some excuse to leave before I could even open my mouth to speak, she had even stopped coming into the library, and it infuriated me that she wanted to stay away from me so badly she would give up on something she loved so much just to do so.

I had fucked up, big time.

I shouldn't have told her about Marie, I should have just quit while I was ahead and stopped while I still held her sympathy. But her encouragement, and the fact that she had said my name, had made me believe that I could speak to her like a friend, _one_ friend in particular.

I had told her the story as though I were speaking to Gaston, because I knew _he_ would have found my revenge just as justified and amusing as I did. But Belle... wasn't like Gaston. She wasn't the type to hold a grudge, that much I had witnessed first hand. She was compassionate and forgiving, and I had taken advantage of her willingness to listen by painting myself a brutal monster and comparing her to a whore. Again!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!

I had been making such progress and now it felt like I was even further away from her then when I had first got here, only this time, I seriously doubted I could save her from another pack of hungry wolves to get her to talk to me.

How did I fix this?

"Adam?"

I jumped in my seat, my eyes flying across the table to meet the rather disapproving gaze of the king.

"What? I mean, um... could you repeat that please?" I stuttered, ignoring the various snickers and gasps from around the dining room. It was a testament to how distracted I was that I couldn't even focus on the king's words.

He gave me a look that let me know exactly how he felt about being ignored, before sliding his face back into a mask and proceeding to repeat himself.

"I was mentioning to Gaston that the ball being held in celebration of his twenty-first name day would be the perfect place to audition potential brides. Wouldn't you agree?"

I froze in my seat, completely blind-sided. How did I respond to a question like that? I knew Gaston wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of taking a bride, and as he was sitting _right there_ across the table from me - looking like he had been sucking on a sour lemon - I really didn't want to appear as though I were taking sides.

Thankfully, Gaston spoke up before I was forced to.

"Father, do we really have to discuss this now? I've still got another month until my coronation, Can't we just wait until then?" Gaston grumbled, dropping his fork with a frustrated scowl on his face.

"That time will go quickly son. Besides, wouldn't you like to get to know your bride _before_ you are wed? It only makes sense to take your time with your decision least you're stuck with a maiden we _both_ disapprove of." The king explained languidly, as though he had already exhausted this matter a dozen times before. I wouldn't be surprised. Gaston was stubborn, and I knew how reluctant he was to finally tie himself down and commit to one woman. He liked his freedom.

"Why do I even need a wife to rule, it's not like she'd have any say in the decisions I make for the kingdom? Why do I need to marry to be king?" Gaston demanded, pushing his food away with a huff.

The king clenched his jaw ever so slightly, his eyes turning sharp and cold as he stared across the table at his son. I could almost feel the whole room holding their breath.

"Gaston, we have been over this already," the king gritted sternly, "you need to respect the traditions of your ancestors, and this is the way it has always been. I've already taken the liberty of inviting every eligible maiden of _status_ to attend the Ball, and I expect you to co-operate. If you don't, well then, I may very well decide to honour another of our family's noble traditions, and decide _for_ you."

Gaston let out a sharp puff of air through his nose and stared his father down across the room. Everyone went completely quiet. No one made a sound.

"No. If I'm forced to choose a woman to bind myself to in marriage, I will make the decision on my own. And if I remember correctly father, I do not need _your_ approval for who I pick."

If the atmosphere wasn't tense before, it certainly was now. I was willing to bet that everyone in the dining hall would have rather been anywhere else but in the same room with two furious, feuding members of royalty. Oh god, couldn't these two just get along?

But unlike his son, Silas looked the pinnacle of ease. The anger seemed to have melted away, leaving a fairly amused smirk on his face at his son's words. He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly and regally raised his wine to his lips. "Is that so? Well, son, I'll share a little secret with you, and since you choose to throw this tantrum in front of an entire hall of people, I suppose I will be forced to share this secret with them as well. _Everything_ you do requires my approval, even when you think you are the one in control, I am always there, pulling the strings."

His tone was superior, even slightly snide, as he levelled his son with a disarming gaze. He took another leisurely sip and continued.

"If you believe, for even a moment, that you will be allowed to wed anyone you please, you will be sorely disappointed. The woman you wed will be a woman of stature, wealth and superior breeding. And once you _are_ wed, you will be completely loyal to her; no more gallivanting off with wenches who aren't even worthy enough to clean the expensive sheets they stain."

My whole body went rigid at the king's rancid words. I knew he was talking about her, and I hated that he spoke of her so disparagingly. He didn't even know her, what right did he have!

I could see Gaston was just as enraged. The veins in his thick neck were practically bulging as his fists clenched the dining room tablecloth. His eyes bore holes into the perfectly stitched linen before he pushed himself angrily to his feet.

"I'm done, if you'll _please_ excuse me."

"Gaston, sit down. Don't act like a child. You haven't even finished your supper." Silas drawled, clearly bored with his son's display.

"I'm not hungry. Now if you'll pardon me, I have a _wedding_ to think about." Gaston snarled in an insincerely enthusiastic manner, before stomping loudly from the room. I sat staring at my roast duck for only a moment, before quickly launching to my feet.

"If you'll excuse me as well, Your Majesty?" I asked the king, who raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow at me before waving his hand through the air, dismissing me.

"Gaston, wait!" I called out, running to catch up with him. He was charging down the flights of stairs at such a pace I had to jump several steps just to keep up with him. He was fuming, fists clenched to his sides, back straight and bristling. He didn't stop, so I simply followed, hurrying along beside him.

"Maybe it won't be so bad. You might even enjoy being married, once you get used to it." I told him. If I were being honest, I was kind of on board with the idea. After all, if Gaston were wed, I'd have Belle all to myself, at least for a few months. There was no way in hell I'd expose my true feelings though, so I spoke the false words as comfortingly as I could. His scoff let me know he wasn't fooled.

"Don't talk out of your ass Adam, I know you don't want this either! Who would? Being forced to decide who you're going to be chained to forever? I wish father would just let me live my life in peace!" He spat, keeping his eyes straight ahead as we bounded down another flight of stairs. Where were we even going?

"Your father may be right though," I panted breathlessly, wheezing as our feet pounded another dark hallway, "It would probably be better to pick a bride before your wedding, that way, you can ensure you're not stuck with something you don't want. Who knows, you may even meet someone you _want_ to be with."

He cast me a look of complete disgust, a thin line of sweat forming on his brow from our exertion. He turned on me abruptly, hands tugging at his hair, as though he fancied to rip out each strand to relieve his frustrations.

"Adam, you don't understand! How can I possibly pick a bride when I have..? how can I..? Urg!"

He suddenly turned and pounded his fist right into the strong stone wall. I watched in awe, and a little worry, as he pulled his hand away to reveal several dented bricks and a light dust of rubble.

 _Wow, he must be really upset with the prospect of marriage._ I was feeling rather alarmed by just _how_ upset he was. Sure, marrying so young under the orders of another would be to the disdain of any man, but it wasn't as though he hadn't had time to prepare himself for this. He had known what age he would be obliged to take a wife all his life, and Silas was right, the time between now, and his coronation was extremely short. There was no way Silas would dishonour centuries worth of traditions by handing Gaston the crown without a bride. Was this only about his reluctance to settle down and commit, or was something else going on here?

I had a rather sneaking suspicion I knew the _real_ reason behind this tantrum he was throwing, and honestly, I was just summoning up the courage to question him about it, when...

"Do you really think she'll like it, Belle? She didn't tell me what she wanted, she just kept saying that my smile was the best solstice gift I could give her? Do you think she'll like this more?" Chip's squeaky childish voice came slightly muffled through the door we had just past by. Gaston froze, his whole body rippling with a single shiver of tension before his eyes hunted back to the door. I hadn't even noticed we had been walking through the servants quarters.

"Oh Chip, I don't think there's anything you could possibly get her that would make her smile more than you. But I'll bet she'll love this almost as much." Belle's sweet words almost made me smile, until I took a close look at Gaston's face. Oh no.

He turned back, all but shoving me out of the way, and with a snarl did he viciously kick the door to the servant's lounge wide open. I cringed as the wood bashed against the stone wall, but had no time before Gaston barged angrily through the doorway. I followed tentatively. This was not good.

I saw Belle and Chip first, as they were both seated on the floor, a small wooden box half wrapped in brown paper and string between them. A look of fear marred her beauty before she launched herself to her feet along with the fifteen or so other servants who all looked like their peaceful afternoon had been trampled all over.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Gaston yelled, his heavy voice booming around the small silent room. Nearly everyone cringed, staring fearfully upon the angry prince, but none more so than Belle.

"I asked you a question, Belle! What is this?" He hissed, taking a menacing step towards her. I saw Chip hiding behind Belle's legs, and saw how she gently placed her hand on his small shoulder as though to soothe him, before standing off against my friend.

"We were just... I was just helping..."

"Didn't I tell you to stop interfering with matters that don't concern you?" He snarled, his strong muscular face red with rage as he took another step forward.

"But you said I could..."

"I _said_ you should ask my permission before you go gallivanting off with servants! Are you honestly _that_ incapable of following orders. Are you seriously _that_ fucking stupid?!" He yelled at her.

Belle swallowed heavily, her face loaded with worry and embarrassment. She gently detached Chip's small arms from around her legs and moved him to the side of her, before taking a small step towards Gaston. Brave of her, I had to admit. He was fuming, and looked ready for a fight. I feared that this might end the same way their last fight did. Yet she approached him rather than backing away, which was more then I could say for the servants who were watching the exchange from the sidelines. One of them launched forward to grab Chip's arm and pull him back to safety, while the rest simply stayed in their submissive positions and tried to look as though they weren't avidly watching the unusual battle before them.

"G-Gaston please, we were only wrapping s-solstice gifts for Mrs Potts. I wasn't exerting myself or doing other servants' chores, I wasn't doing anything you told me not to do. Please, don't be angry. We can talk..."

I jumped as Gaston suddenly bounded forward, gripping both Belle's shoulders in a vice and nearly lifting her off her feet. I took a few steps into the room in a panic. If things got too heated, I would have to intervene. I couldn't let him hurt Belle again, friend or non.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do! I'm the one in charge here, in case you've forgotten! I'm the one who gives the orders!" He snarled in her face, shaking her.

I had to do something! What if he hit her? What if he hurt her like last time? He was angry because of his father, just like last time, and he was taking it out on her, just like last time. Her black eye and bruises appeared in my mind once more, making me feel physically ill. I couldn't let it happen again!

"You think you can go behind my back and do whatever you please? Huh?! Have you forgotten that I own you?! That you belong to _me_ and always will?!" He spat at her, tightening his grip on the poor girl's shoulders so she winced and whimpered in pain. I could see the tears lingering in her eyes, but she was trying so hard to be strong in front of everyone.

That was it, I couldn't watch this any more, I had to intervene.

I was about to tell him to let her go, the words were right on my tongue, but I choked. What if he figured out what had been going on between us? What if he questioned my friendship because I stuck up for her? What if he realised my fixation on a woman he had claimed as his own the very night I was here. Was losing his friendship really worth it?

I cowardly lost my nerve, and he spoke again.

"It seems my pretty little _pet_ needs to be reminded of her place once more. Take your ass back to my bedchamber and don't you dare leave until I come for you!" He barked, before pushing her harshly towards the open door, where she stumbled and bashed against the door-frame, flinging out her arms just in time. She took one last look back at the room, her watery eyes catching my wide frozen ones for only a moment, before she lowered her head in humiliation and fled down the hallway.

A ripe feeling of shame overcame me as I watched her go, realising I had just missed a golden opportunity to prove myself to her. But it was more than that. I knew she didn't deserve the treatment she just got, but it seemed that I, once again, didn't have the guts to speak out against my friend. I may as well have joined the band of cowering servants pressed up against the wall.

I was pathetic.

"I want you all to stay the hell away from her! I'm so sick of all you peasants taking up all of her time, time she _should_ be spending on me! But no, instead she wears herself to the bone, doing _your_ work while you all sit merrily on your asses making solstice gifts!" Gaston roared at them, even more furiously then he had at Belle. The vein in his neck looked fit to burst and his normally cool blue eyes were raging with fire. Even _I_ was a little scared of him in that moment.

"But Your Majesty," one brave servant stammered, "It-it was her idea-"

"She's MINE!" He screamed, the servant cowered away in terror. "And I'm not about to let anyone take her away from me, especially not a bunch of lazy, low life vermin! The next one of you I see anywhere near her will be thrown out of this castle without a single possession to your name. Spread the word. I will be king soon, and there will be no place in my kingdom for rats who don't stay in their place!"

And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed away. I needed to say something, anything! I needed to go after him, and stop him from hurting her like he did before. I needed to do _something_.

"Oh my, what happened here?" Said a familiar voice from the doorway Gaston had just left from. I watched as Chip ran across the room propelling himself into his mother's arms and snuggling his little face into her stomach while she looked down upon him worriedly.

"Chip? Whatever happened? You're shaking."

Chip sniffled and gazed up at his mother with tears in his baby blue eyes.

"Prince Gaston was mean to Belle again Mama! He hurt her again! Why is he so mean to her all the time?" Chip whimpered into his mother's stomach. I watched from the sidelines as Mrs Potts' face soured. She closed her eyes as though experiencing physical pain before muttering, "oh that poor girl. If only her father were better."

Oh my god! She knew!

Why didn't I think of it before?! Mrs Potts knew practically _everything_ about _everyone_ who lived in this castle, mostly because she was so easy to talk to. She was a mother hen, caring for and overseeing all servants, and from the interactions I could recall so far, I knew she was fond of Belle. She _had_ to know why she was here.

 _If Belle won't tell me herself, I'll have to find out some other way._

"Mrs Potts," I called out, drawing her attention away from her frightened offspring. She looked surprised to see me standing there, but wiped it from her face and dipped into a hasty curtsy, still holding Chip to her legs.

"I wish to speak with you, in private," I added quickly, not wanting anyone to know where my obsession lay.

She relented rather reluctantly, handing Chip over to a cook and promising to be back for him shortly, she followed me at a speedy pace out of the servants quarters. At first, I didn't know where I was leading her, I only wanted someplace quiet to talk, but then I realised I was tracing the familiar path to the library. I hated coming in here since Belle had stopped talking to me, but I kept coming back in the hopes that she would return.

I led Mrs Potts in and closed the doors behind her. Turning to face her, I got straight to the point.

"Why is Belle here Mrs Potts? What does Gaston have on her that makes her stay?"

Her kind eyes immediately widened in shock, like the question was the last thing she ever expected to come out of my mouth. She wrung her apron between her fingers, nervously playing with the fabric, "You wish to know about Belle?"

I nearly rolled my eyes. Isn't that exactly what I just said?

"I know she's not here of her own free will Mrs Potts, not with the way Gaston treats her. I want to know the reason, so you're going to tell me." I decreed, fully expecting her to do as I told her. She always listened to me. Always.

Mrs Potts shifted her eyes around, looking tense and anxious as she avoided my burning gaze. Finally, she settled on staring at a row of colourful worn books on a shelf beside me. Her answer was not what I expected.

"I don't know what you mean Sire. Belle is here entirely of her own accord. She serves the prince because she is loyal to him, as are all servants of this castle."

My face dropped. Her reply, it was so... monotonous. So practised, so _fake_. It wasn't at all what I wanted to hear, and I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously.

"Mrs Potts, I know there's something going on here. She's so strong and courageous, and yet she bends at the knee every time Gaston walks into the room. I know he's keeping her here somehow, and I want to know why!"

Her eyes popped at my evaluation of Belle's character, even taking a step back in her shock. Her voice sounded weary and quivering as she spoke again, "Belle is here for the same reason we all are Your Majesty; to feed our families and provide for ourselves. She serves the king and castle with the same commitment that the rest of us do. There is nothing special about her circumstances what so ever."

I didn't understand, why was she acting this way? She was normally so warm and tender with me, yet she was speaking to me as though I were a complete stranger, as though she were _disdainful_ of my questions. I didn't understand... unless...

She was protecting her.

Was the reason for Belle's occupancy in this castle so ghastly that everyone was keeping it a secret? I shook my head. I couldn't. It reminded me too much of my grandmother. Where everyone knew the big bad secret, except me!

 _What could possibly be so bad?_

 _Why would she need to hide it?_

 _Belle, what are you keeping from me?_

I felt so... so frustrated. I wanted to know, but no one would tell me anything! I had revealed my entire dark past to Belle only three days ago, and instead of repaying the favour and responding in kind, she ran from me and ignored me!

What gave her the right?! I was a prince! She should... she should be...

It was at that moment I realised I was doing everything wrong.

I wanted her to treat me like a friend, but I had been acting as her superior this whole time. I shouldn't just expect her to tell me things because of my status, and then turn around and say that my status shouldn't mean anything to her. I told myself I wanted the same relationship with her that Gaston had, but I truly truly didn't. Their relationship was built on intimidation and threats. I didn't want her to see me the same way as Gaston; being obedient and submissive out of fear of the repercussions.

I didn't want to be like Gaston, even if it meant I would never get to be with her physically, the way he got to be.

I didn't want to be _only_ a prince to her.

I wanted to be... so much more.

I was so confused, and I feared it was all over my face since Mrs Potts was eyeing me with wondrous uncertainty. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling weak and even slightly queasy. Where did I go from here?

"Mrs Potts, please," I whispered, some of my desperation leaking through as I took a step towards her. Her small mouth gaped in reply.

"You've known me since I was a child, and I know I've changed, maybe even into something you can't bring yourself to care about any more but... please. Please know that the absolute _last_ thing I want to do is hurt her. I need to know what it is that's keeping her here. Why she endures being treated so... so cruelly, when I know what she's capable of. She could go anywhere, do anything, _be_ anything, yet she stays. It makes no sense. Please, help me make sense of it all." I pleaded with her.

Mrs Potts... well, I didn't even know how to describe the look she had on. Her jaw was practically dislodged from her face her mouth was so wide. And her eyes, they swam with an emotion I had no explanation for. Maybe she simply couldn't bring herself to believe I was trying to help. She had acted like a mother to me when I was young, but maybe my _real_ mother was right. Maybe I really _was_ unlovable. No one loved me. No one trusted me. No one believed I could change.

"I wasn't aware the two of you had gotten so close." She observed gently, her gaze so soft and searching, boring into my own as though desperate to seek the unnatural emotions my mouth had spewed all over her. My face warmed as I thought about all I had learned of her, all the time we'd spent together. What would people think if they knew how avidly I had been chasing after this one servant girl? Did I even really care any more?

"We are. Well, I mean... we were." I admitted embarrassed, the heat in my cheeks flushing through as shame overtook me. Her motherly eyes watched me unwaveringly.

"I said something stupid a few days ago, and she hasn't spoken to me since. I didn't mean to hurt her, but it's like... sometimes... I just can't stop myself. But I want to. I want to be different for her Mrs Potts, because I know that I can't be what I am and still expect to get close to her. I figure she's probably had enough of demanding royalty who push her around and always expect obedience. But I don't want her to be obedient, at least... not any more. I just want her to be... her. Please... help me get her back." I begged. Shamelessly. I didn't care. It was the truth.

I didn't care if Belle ever told me about her past or why she was here. I didn't care if she never revealed her secrets to me. I just wanted her to _talk_ to me again.

I hadn't realised the toll her silence had been taking on me. It had been three days, yet somehow felt like a lifetime.

Why?

"Your Majesty-"

"Adam." I interrupted her, she froze.

"You always use to call me by my name when I was younger. Please don't change that now." I continued to plead, nearly desperate for acceptance, even if it wasn't from the one person I truly wanted it from.

Her face melted into the most tender expression I had ever seen, and I was both delighted and disgusted that it was directed at me. I must have looked pathetic, but I decided I didn't care. I couldn't do this on my own, I knew that now. No matter how hard I tried, I just kept hurting her. Just like _him_.

"Adam," her voice quivered on the word, in fact, her whole body was shaking. I watched her closely, fearful that she might faint from how pale she suddenly looked.

"Adam, Prince Gaston is your friend-"

"I know he's abusing her Mrs Potts. Trust me I've... I've tried to deny it, but seeing him earlier, it was like... it was like he feels that she deserves to be mistreated even if she's done nothing wrong. He _is_ my friend, you're right, but... he's changed. Changed into something I just can't pretend I accept any more. Belle's so good and pure, she deserves better. Please help me help her."

She swallowed heavily, her chubby face quivering with a strange intensity at my speech. She took a step towards me. I didn't back away.

" _He's_ changed?" She whispered so quietly I barely heard her. Her eyes hunted my face as she raised one trembling arm as though to touch me, her hand was literally centimetres from my face before she changed her mind. She retreated again, and my face dropped.

"Adam, please listen to me. There is nothing in this world I would rather do then help you get that poor girl away from Prince Gaston, but... I simply can't. She _needs_ him. And she certainly does not need any more grief. I fear the more you interfere, the worse it will become for her. He hates it when she's close to other men, and you... well, he's already warned her to stay away from you. The more you continue to pursue her the more you risk putting her in danger."

I gulped. Gaston warned her to stay away from me? Then why had she spent almost every day with me for the past few weeks? Why did she agree to help me in the first place? Why didn't she obey?

A small flicker of hope bloomed where worry reined supreme. Maybe she _did_ care after all.

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"...pity you Belle. You must believe that you have a chance of becoming his bride because you share his bed, but trust me, you are just a distraction. Once his coronation day arrives, he will be taking one of us as his wife. Make no mistake about that!" Came a familiar nasally, irksome voice from around the corner. I turned, and immediately concealed myself as I watched the three Maddington triplets standing before Belle, all with their arms crossed across their chests in a rather humorous attempt at intimidation.

I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Belle, for I had been afraid that she would disappear for weeks like last time. From this distance, she seemed fine, perfect even, in a pale yellow day dress and her beautiful hair all plaited in a ponytail. She looked unharmed, but I didn't know how long she would stay that way with these three idiots surrounding her, looking rather pathetic in their attempts at being scary. I was about to step in, but it looked as though Belle didn't need my help. She smirked at them.

"No doubt," I heard her say, catching the look of surprise on the three stupid girl's faces before Belle continued. "The question is, exactly _which_ one of you will it be? You can't _all_ marry him, and I have to assume Prince Gaston will want to marry the prettiest, fairest, most _talented_ girl he can find. So, which one of you is that?" Belle asked with a mocking smile. I barely contained my snicker. This girl.

"Me, of course!" All three sisters squealed at once, before turning on each other with angry expressions and beginning to bicker amongst themselves. Belle took the distraction and quickly retreated down the corridor. Right towards me. Perfect.

"That was clever," I said right before she bumped into me, as she had been keeping an eye on the girls she was trying to escape. "Although I really shouldn't be surprised by now should I?"

Her shocked eyes widened and she jumped back. I could see realization dawning on her face. She was just remembering _why_ it was she was avoiding me, when...

"Hey, where'd she go?"

" _You_ were supposed to be watching her idiot, this is why Prince Gaston will choose me!"

"Shut up you two, let's find her before she gets back to the prince!"

"Let's go," I whispered, quickly taking her hand and fleeing down the hallway. The last thing I wanted was those three anywhere near me. I kept a tight hold of her hand as the two of us ran through the castle, trying to escape the tiny terrors that were following close behind us. Seeing a door up close to my right, I stopped abruptly and almost felt her propel right into me. Yanking the door open, I hastily pulled her into the dark cramped space before closing the door quickly behind us. Seconds later we heard the thumping of three pairs of shoes run past, and I held my breath until the noise had disappeared down the hallway. Looking over at her panting face, I let out a little laugh.

"How are you always getting into trouble?" I chuckled, seeing her holding her hand to her heart as she barely suppressed a grin of her own.

"Hey, don't blame me! I didn't know those three blond bimbos were showing up today! The solstice ball isn't for another five days. Besides, no one asked _you_ to get involved. I can handle those three perfectly fine on my own."

I smirked at her, the haughtiness in her answer amusing me greatly.

"So I saw. I never thought a girl like you would be capable of being so underhanded and sneaky." I complimented.

Apparently, she didn't see it quite that way. A shadow passed across her face, a shadow having nothing to do with the darkness of the cramped space I had shoved us into. Only a small sliver of light shun through a small dirty window partially obscured by shelves covered in washcloths and basins. A broom closet. Of course.

"Well, you would be surprised what _girl's like me_ are capable of nowadays." She told me coldly, a snarl marring her fair complexion as her hand reached for the doorknob. I moved to stop her, placing my hand over hers.

"Belle, please, just let me explain. I didn't mean to offend you when I said those things about Marie. It was all about her, you have to know that. I didn't mean any of it against you."

Her flat mouth and heavy-lidded eyes told me she was not convinced.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Your Majesty. You weren't wrong, after all. It is so nice to be continuously reminded of how much of a whore I am, but if you please, I do think that I'd _like_ to stop having it said right to my face all the time. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She drawled, pushing the door open a crack before I yanked it back again, the force scaring her away long enough for me to cover the door with my body. We were so close together, her and I, trapped in this tight little space. I could count every single one of her eyelashes if I wished to, but right now, all I wanted was for her to hear me out.

"Please Belle, don't say things like that," I begged, horrified that she would refer to herself a whore so casually. It wasn't what she was. Any idiot could see that. It had just taken _this_ idiot longer than most.

"Why? You were right." She continued patronisingly, almost as though she knew how much those words pained me. I couldn't take it; I snapped and grabbed her, "Belle, would you please just-"

She winced, letting out a hiss of pain. I dropped my hands at once, throwing myself back into the door in horror. I looked at the place I had grabbed, the place I had only just noticed had been obstructed by short yellow sleeves. Bruises.

"What did he do to you?" I seethed, taking a tiny step forward to glare at the marks revealed by my heinous actions, Belle was quick to conceal the marks, hugging her arms around her shoulders.

"Don't, okay." She remarked sullenly. "They're just bruises."

I let out a sharp gasp. Oh god.

"Belle I'm... I'm so sorry," I stuttered, appalled at my own actions. I had grabbed her so viciously, just like Gaston had done. Didn't I say I wanted to be nothing like him any more? How could I..?

"Stop saying you're sorry! Gods, that's all you ever say! I thought you were different from Gaston, but you're not, you're worse! He never apologises for anything, but I'd take that over constantly apologising when you aren't even sincere!"

I choked. WHAT!

"I _am_ fucking sincere! How can you say I'm worse then Gaston! I'm nothing like him!" I yelled at her. She chuckled. It was a joyless, bitter sound, and the barely visible sunshine did its part to make her disgust all the more visible.

"You are _exactly_ like him! But at least he's honest about what he is. You... I can never make up my mind with you! One moment you're screaming about how much of a whore I am, then you're making me feel sorry for you. Then you go back to making me feel like shit! I don't want to be a part of your sick, twisted games any more! If your only playing with me because you think I'm not _good_ _enough_ for your best friend, then just fucking stop! In another month I won't even be here, and all I'm trying to do is get through it! And it would be a hell of a lot easier if you, or the king, or everyone else would just stop reminding me of how insignificant I am! Because I get it! I get that I'm used up, I get that no one will ever want me! I get that I'll never amount to anything and I get that I'm not even worth saving! So please! Please please please just STOP!" She cried, her voice breaking as she released a sharp sob.

I just stood there, stunned.

"Is that really how I make you feel?" I whispered, completely devastated. I watched brokenly as two thick wet tears trailed down her red flustered face. She looked up at me just as sadly.

"Isn't that how you're _trying_ to make me feel?" She whimpered. My eyes bulged.

"NO! No Belle! No! Oh god!" I grabbed hold of my long fair hair, gripping it painfully as though it had the answers I needed. How did I talk to her like this? What could I even say? I was a mess!

"Belle I'm... I'm no good at this," I stuttered as some kind of pathetic explanation. I ran a sweaty hand down my red face and tried again.

"I never meant to make you feel that way, I swear I didn't! When I told you about Marie, I was only telling you about her because... because I'd never told anyone about her before. I've never told anyone about any of it. My parents, how they treated me, how they made me feel. I felt so insignificant and unloved for years, and then she came along, and I thought she was different, so when I found out she was more of the same I just... I lost it. She was the first person I ever trusted and she destroyed me. I never thought I'd ever find someone I trusted ever again, but then... there was you." I stopped and took a deep breath, not even brave enough to look her in the eye. I was so desperate to get it all out it almost didn't matter if she believed me, just as long as she listened.

"Your nothing like her Belle, and the one reason I know that's true is because... because I know you don't love Gaston. I don't know why you act the way you do around him, why you cower and act so submissive when I know how strong and brave you are. To be honest with you, I'd give just about anything _to_ know. But I won't force you to tell me. I won't force you to do anything, ever again. If letting you walk out this door and having you never talk to me again is the price I have to pay to prove to you I would never treat you like he does, then so be it. But please please know how sorry I am for ever making you feel like I'm worse than him. Because maybe you're right, maybe I am, but I would never do anything like that to _you_. You're worth the world, and you should be with someone who makes you feel that way, not someone who puts you down or hurts you. I'm so so sorry for everything he's done. I'm sorry for not stopping him! I'm just... so fucking _sorry_!"

I was panting like crazy. I felt like I couldn't breathe. My gaze hammered to a dirty mop covered in cobwebs sitting propped up against the dull stone wall. I didn't even remember half the things I had just said to her, all I wanted was for her to know how desperately I wanted to be with her again. To have her stop ignoring me and forgive me, and give me a second chance at being friends. I'd take it. Even if it wasn't what I wanted I'd take it. Anything over her hatred.

I didn't expect it, honestly, it was the last thing I'd expect... the feeling of a soft small hand on my cheek.

My eyes shot down to hers, catching my own messy reflection in her shining forest pools.

"You really mean this don't you?" She whispered heavily, her gaze matching the same desperation I was riddled with. "This isn't just some trick or game. Tell me you're being honest with me." She begged.

I placed my hand over hers, relishing the feeling of her skin against my own.

"I mean it, Belle. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't trust me. I'm a bastard, I know that, but I'm trying to be better, for you. You make me want to be better. I don't know why and please don't ask me to explain it but... can we please just go back to being friends again." I pleaded with her, nearly crushing her hand to my face, holding it so tightly, afraid to pull away. Her brown irises brightened and her mouth gaped wide open. I was afraid I'd said the wrong thing.

"Friends again? You want us to be friends?" She asked me, bewilderedly.

I nodded solemnly, bracing myself.

"Yes, but if that's not what you want..." I trailed off, staring at the dirty stone floor, waiting for rejection.

"No," She said quietly, I nodded in defeat, feeling like I wanted to go back to my room and crawl under the bed forever. I hated myself.

"Adam, I would love to be friends."

* * *

 **Please R &R and tell me what you think about this chapter, along with one idea about where you think this story is headed. Thank you.**


	18. Ruined Possessions And Hard Truths

**Ruined Possessions And Hard Truths**

 **.**

I wasn't sure why I was here exactly, all I knew was that I wanted to be.

I wanted to do something for her, something that proved how much her acceptance meant to me, and after hours of contemplation, _this_ is what I'd come up with.

I trudged determinedly through the mushy grass and wet shrivelled leaves. The winter had brought with it a bitter chill, that seemed to capture every bone in my body even through the layers of fur and fabric I was adorning. I was half certain that this mission was a pointless one, but if there was even the slightest chance...

I looked ahead of me at the small stream half frosted by the chilly morning air. Beyond it, the tree that Belle had climbed upon when she was attacked by that pack of hungry wolves. Perhaps coming back here wasn't the smartest of decisions, but it was all I could think to do.

I trod carefully upon a small family of stepping stones that clustered together to build a bridge of sorts. My hunting boots slipped on the slimy moss that covered each rock and I threw out my arms to stop myself from descending right into the freezing stream. Not that I was afraid of a little cold water, but I _was_ freezing already, and continuously scolding myself for how stupid this idea was since I took the horse out this morning. But there was no time to waste. No time to wait until my relationship with Belle improved or the weather got better, and since my mind had convinced me that this was going to be a _wonderful_ _surprise_ , I didn't want to simply _ask_ Belle about it.

I approached the tree with caution, the eerie silence of the surrounding woods sending chills down my spine. There were no birds singing or insects chirping or even a simple breeze ruffling the forest. It was completely still. I didn't like it.

Looking the tree over, my eyes caught sight of a damp piece of shrivelled cloth wrapped around a naked branch. Inspecting it closely, I realised it had to be the piece of cloak that had ripped from Belle's coat whilst she was being attacked. A shiver went through me just thinking about that day, reminding me of the real reason I did not want to be here. I remembered her terrified face. If I hadn't gotten here in time...

I shook my head, pushing the vile thought away. I wasn't here for that. I looked at the foot of the tree, the place I presumed Belle must have been sitting before the wolves came upon her, but as predicted, it was blanketed by a hundred wet shrivelled leaves. Pulling a face of disgust, I bent down on my knees and began picking through them. Why did I think this was a good idea again? The soggy mess was horrible, making me wish I had remembered to bring my gloves along, but I hadn't. I had been so excited when the idea struck I hadn't even stopped to eat breakfast. I had simply dressed, hurried to the barn to saddle the first horse I saw and then I was off. Off to do something I had never once done in all my years of being alive. I sure hoped this would be worth it.

My frozen fingers carefully sifted through piles upon piles of mucky gunk, practically crawling on my knees, completely disgusted. I could feel the wet forest floor seeping through my breeches, no doubt leaving a stain that would likely never come out. But despite my reservations, I didn't stop.

For Belle: I kept reminding myself, as a dug like a dog in search for my prize. A cold puff of air released from my throat as my frustrations built and built. Maybe she hadn't even been sitting here when she was attacked. Perhaps she had been somewhere entirely different and had simply made a run for it when the wolves had descended upon her. Well, if _that_ was the case, then I was screwed. I remembered Lumière telling me certainly that _this_ is where she always came to read the day they had found her missing, and I had contemplated perhaps simply asking one of the staff who talked about her that day, but there lay another problem. I didn't know half of them, and didn't trust them to keep it a secret from Belle. I was far too stubborn to ask Lumière, still harbouring suspicions about how close those two apparently were, and Mrs Potts had warned me to stay away.

No, I had to do this on my own. It would count for more if I did it alone, I knew it would. And she deserved it. She deserved this for all she'd done for me, and to make her smile after all the tears I had made her shed was the one thing motivating me.

 _Urg! Where is it?!_

I launched to my feet, brushing the mess off my knees angrily. It had to be here _somewhere_ , unless...

Perhaps the harsh weather had already torn it to pieces. Perhaps it had already deteriorated in the rain and humidity and now it was lost as a part of the forest.

My shoulders slumped dejectedly. I didn't want to go back to the castle empty-handed, the excitement of following through with my idea still firmly lodged in the back of my mind, but if I couldn't find-

Something caught my eye. A hint of blue and I dove for it immediately, bending on my knees to carefully shift away the damp sodden leaves and debris to reveal the thing I had been looking for. It was wet, and it was damaged, but it was here.

Belle's book.

 **AAA**

The quiet musical chime of a bell above the door sounded as I shuffled my way into the small bookstore. And I say shuffled because practically every inch of the tiny shop was avalanched in books. They were everywhere. Cramming up and leaking off two stories of shelves, stacked high and haphazardly upon two narrow windowsills and basically jammed into every available and none available corner. A rather large round window built into the roof shun small patches of sunlight in sporadic places, but it was still dark, stuffy and warm, smelling of musk and worn fabric. I coughed. I bet Belle would feel right at home here.

"Hello?" I called out, carefully picking my way through the mess to the barely discernable counter sitting before an open doorway. I tried to catch a peak to see if anyone was behind it but saw nothing and no one beyond more mess. Taking Belle's book out of my pocket, I stared at it dejectedly. It was ruined, there was no doubt. I hadn't gone out to those woods expecting miracles. It had been trampled on and buried under wet leaves for weeks, and was almost completely falling apart. But I was determined. My perfect idea for a winter solstice gift for Belle, was the one thing I knew she wouldn't be able to get on her own. She had told me that particular copy was the only one in the castle library, so if I wanted to replace it, I would have to look elsewhere. I had asked a random servant where the nearest bookshop was, and she had told me about this place. It was funny; I had been to this village hundreds of times, but had never once noticed the small store with crowded windows squashed between a bakers and a shoe repair store. I didn't have much hope this tiny hovel had what I needed, but I had to at least try. For her.

I carefully placed Belle's book down on the counter, pushing some of the clutter away with the back of my hand, not blinking an eye as a poorly stacked pyramid of paperbacks fell to their death over the edge of the desk. All I cared about was Belle's book. I sighed at its pathetic state. It was drenched, soaked through and completely unreadable. The only thing that was redeemable was the front cover. I was lucky the book had been covered in a thick jacket of blue leather, or I seriously doubted I would have been able to salvage anything at all. As it was, the ink was smudged and the corners wet and soggy, but the title inscribed in the leather was clear.

 _Descending the Moon._

This was the book Belle told me was her favourite. The book she had cried over when she realised she had lost it. The book she had told me only a few dozen had been made of, and the book I was going to return to her as her solstice gift.

And I only had four days to do it.

Brilliant.

"Oh, so sorry young man, I didn't 'ear you back 'ere! Rarely ever get visitors, ya' see?" A small older gentleman with long grey hair and abnormally large spectacles came out from behind the doorway. I blinked at the sight of him. The lenses in his glasses were so thick his eyes resembled that of an insect, sitting upon a small crooked nose. His eyesight was probably so bad I doubted he could tell who he was talking to, but I didn't care enough to enlighten him. He looked an eccentric fellow, with his two front teeth the only ones remaining in his otherwise wide and wrinkled mouth. The top of his head was shiny and balding, while three patches of bristly white hair completed his rather bizarre appearance. None the less, he smiled at me, and rubbed his hands together as though he were excited at the prospect of having a customer.

I wouldn't be surprised.

I didn't even know this place existed until a few hours ago. And these types of people didn't really strike me as heavy readers since the bookstore was empty, but the pub was already alive with revelry. It was only noon.

"Um, yes, well, its no problem uh... I actually came about this," I told the shopkeeper, poking the soggy remains of what was once a treasured possession. The older man adjusted the spectacles on his nose and bent his crooked back forward to get a closer look.

"Oh dea'. Looks as though this book has had quite an adventure of its own. I'm terribly sorry young man but, if ya' wished for me to repair it, I wouldn't 'ave much luck." He told me regretfully. I shook my head.

"I don't want you to repair it, I just wanted to know if you had a copy," I told him, praying to the gods that he did. If not, the next closest bookstore I knew of was in the capital. In my kingdom. Great.

"Descending the Moon eh?" The old man said, all but sticking his nose right to the withered pages to see it clearly. A look of confusion crossed his face, creasing hills into the lines of his sagging forehead. "I could have sworn..." He muttered to himself. I watched him curiously as he adjusted his thick glasses once more, his huge magnetised eyes blinking hypnotically.

"Well now, let's see 'ere," He said, hobbling back behind the open doorway and disappearing from my sight. I could hear him moving and items being shifted around. As I waited, my eyes turned back to the book, half-heartedly lifting the limp pages with my thumb and pointer finger. I hoped I could do this for her. She deserved _something_ back after everything she had already given me, and even though I had never, ever given a solstice gift before, it was literally the first thought that came to mind the second I woke up this morning, and what surprised me the most was that I didn't try to talk myself out of it. I was determined to go into the woods and find the book, and get her a copy, and give it to her on Solstice Eve. Just imagining those wide chocolate eyes sparkling with joy, that bountiful smile spreading across her pink plump cheeks, her arms reaching up to engulf me in-

"I'm terribly sorry m' boy, but I'm afraid this particular book is not in me possession." My fantasy was yanked out from under me at the crushing news. My face dropped.

"Are you sure? I mean, how can you be certain of what you have in here? It's a mess!" I said sullenly, looking angrily around the mayhem of books littered literally everywhere. The man's fluffy eyebrows lifted at my tone, a frown bringing down the corners of his wrinkled mouth, his shoulders shifting uncomfortably.

"Well granted, it was a little more organised when I had me assistant 'ere with me, but I know me own stock lad. The young lassy made a record of all the books I 'ad. Wrote 'em all down on this 'ere list, 'ya see. I'm afraid I don't 'ave a copy," he told me sympathetically.

I threw my head back dramatically, dragging a clammy hand down my face. Huffing petulantly, I slumped forward on the counter, resting my head on my arms. I just wanted to do something _nice_ for a change. Was that really so much to _ask_?

I jumped as I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, and straightened to find the man uncomfortably close, a compassionate smile on his aged face.

"I'm terribly sorry I couldn't help ya', m' boy. It appears the book meant a great deal to ya'. It is remarkably rare to meet someone who shares the same passion for 'em as I do. Ever since the young lass left, I haven't had anyone to talk to. I'm afraid no one in this village seems to appreciate 'em."

I let out an agitated breath through my nose and shrugged off the man's hand awkwardly, to busy feeling sorry for myself to feel any pity for _him_. What rotten luck.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the book wasn't mine. It belongs to a friend of mine and it was her I was trying to get a replacement for. Thanks for trying anyway, I guess." I sulked, picking up the soggy remains of my hope and placing it carefully back in my pocket. Now my only option was to travel to my kingdom and hope just _one_ of any bookstores in the capital had it in stock. It was too late to find another alternative, like perhaps trying to track down the anonymous author. If I wanted to get her this gift before winter solstice, I had to hope that _someone_ in my kingdom had this incredibly special book in their possession.

I practically shoved my way past the shopkeeper, acting oblivious to his eyes on me. I was almost at the worn wooden door when his thick voice called out, "Do ya' know a young lass by the name of Belle by any chance?"

I spun immediately, staring at the shopkeeper with wide surprised eyes. "You know Belle?" I demanded.

He nodded his head like a horse, a small reminiscent smile lighting his drooping face as he swept his hand around his tiny shop.

"She use to help me 'ere. First assistant I ever 'ad, and a bloody good one at that. That book your 'oldin', she use to 'ave it with her always. Didn't matter how many books I 'ad 'ere to en'ertain 'er, she always brought that one everywhere she went, she did."

I gaped at him. I didn't know why this news was so shocking to me, but I supposed I had just assumed that Gaston had plucked Belle from somewhere unfamiliar, or else she had gone to work at the castle first before she caught his eye. How..?

"Belle worked _here_? In _this_ shop? She _lived_ in this village?" I asked him bewilderedly.

How long had she been here? Had she been living in this small village the whole time? She can't have been! I had been to this village dozens of times whilst growing up, and I outright refused to believe I could have walked right past her without noticing her until Gaston had declared her off limits.

"Why yes. The little lass lived in that house at the edge of the village, but as far as I know, she 'asn't been back since she left to live in that there castle. Not that I blame her." He remarked, his tone going suddenly sour as he looked down at the cluttered floorboards. I had to know more.

"What do you mean? What happened? Why did she leave?" I asked rapidly, so eager for answers I took a step back towards him and stumbled, a small pile of books near my feet tumbling over, but I didn't move my eyes from the shopkeeper's sullen face. Why did he seem so sad all of a sudden?

"Oh, 'tisnot my story to tell ya' sonny. All I can say is that I'm not surprised the young lass 'as never honoured 'er promise to come back and visit this old man. I can barely stand to look me neighbours in the eye after everything they did to that poor girl and her father. I doubt she'd want to come back if she could avoid it. How is she, by the way? I miss 'er terribly. Never met anyone as sweet or kind as that one girl. Please tell me what those wrongens' did to 'er didn't change that in 'er." He begged me, his comically large eyes seeming to swell at the mere memory of Belle.

I wanted to interrogate him. Pick at every last detail of what he had just disclosed until the whole story was revealed to me, but I simply couldn't. Not only did the man look a wrong word away from tears, but I also had to honour my promise. I swore I wouldn't invade her privacy, and that I'd let Belle decide when and if she was ready to tell me her story. I couldn't go behind her back and demand it out of some stranger right after I had earned her forgiveness. I just couldn't.

I looked the older gentlemen over, to find him staring at me with an almost pleading gleam in his eyes. I couldn't help but give him the answer he wanted. "Yeah, she is. She's the most gentle, caring person I've ever met. She's my friend." I told him quietly. Pridefully. She was my friend.

I walked away from the bookstore with the shopkeeper's wish of luck following after me, but it was everything else he had said during our small conversation that was ringing in my ears.

So, Belle had lived here in the village before she moved to the castle, and with her father in tow. It was funny. I had heard about her father countless times since I first expressed my interest in her, but I knew virtually nothing. I'd never met the man, but apparently, he lived in the castle. Belle had never spoken of him but had been completely distraught over him being sick in the castle hospice. And what ever did that strange man mean when he said about his neighbours mistreating her? Did they hurt her? Hurt her father? Did she move to the castle because she wasn't welcomed in the village? How long had she been here? How long had Gaston really known her? And how much of all that had happened centred around this mysterious father of hers? The amount of questions I had just kept on piling up and piling up. It was whether I'd ever get any answers that was-

"Umph," was the sound that came out of me as I unwittingly walked right into a person. I was so distracted I didn't even notice. How embarrassing.

"I apologise, I wasn't watching where I was going," I told the person, a woman, who had dropped several items on the floor due to my clumsiness. Her head was pointed down at the ground as she gathered up her fallen items. Only a sliver of her chin was visible behind the cascades of long red hair.

"No, it was my fault. I was carrying too much and hurrying to get home. I wanted to see my father off before he left for another business trip. I just came from the tavern and..."

It was at that moment she looked up at me, and we both gasped.

" _You_." She breathed in horror, her eyes popping wide as she took all of me in. I recognised her too, through a fuzzy haze of disjointed, incomplete memories. The barmaid.

I had never seen such fear as I saw in that moment, from _that_ one girl's wide glistening eyes. I didn't understand it, and was just about to question it, when she threw her items at my feet and took off running.

"Hey, wait!" I yelled, pelting down the street after her. I chased her through the marketplace, shoving past peasants all ignorantly going about their day. I might have lost her in the large crowds were it not for the flaming red of her hair. It was like a single small light in a complete black hole of darkness, and I kept my eyes on it as I weaved, shoved and pushed my way past all the barriers to keep up with her. I had no idea _why_ she was running, but felt compelled to chase her. The look she had given me, like her entire world had shattered just by seeing me again; I was desperate to understand it. I had thought the night we shared together had gone just fine. Sure I had been drunk and perhaps a little too demanding, but she had agreed to spend the night with me, she had escorted me to her home, she had let me undress her, let me kiss her, let me do all types of things to her.

Why was she running?

Why did she look at me like that?

I saw my opportunity to get my answers when I caught her rushing into an alley I knew from experience was a complete dead end. It sat behind a prominent butchers and was used solely to dispose of their waste. I hurried in, and almost crashed right into her as she had been running right out again. But I had had enough. Using my superior strength, I got a good grip of her arm and forced her right back towards the alley. The rancid stench hit me immediately, wafting up the back of my nose from all the wasted meat and old rotten bones that lay at the end of the alleyway. But I didn't let it distract me, it was her own fault for rushing in here. I was actually rather relieved. At least here, we wouldn't be disturbed.

"No, please, let me go!" She cried hysterically, trying to force her way past me, but I wouldn't have it. I pushed her back against the wall and kept my body between her and the exit. She wasn't going anywhere until she explained herself.

"Calm down," I ordered breathlessly, but sternly. She was writhing against my grip on her arms, trying desperately to get away. Her long wild hair was flying in every direction, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut as though she couldn't stand to look at me. I snapped.

"Stop!"

"Please," She begged, still throwing herself around violently, "Please, Your Majesty, don't make me do it again, please!"

"Do what!" I snarled, completely unimpressed by her behaviour. What exactly could I possibly have 'made' her do? I had only met her once!

Her eyes snapped open, terror and desperation leaking from them as she stared fearfully up at me. Her whole body was quivering.

"Please don't make me go to bed with you again!" She whimpered.

Her words... stunned me. Literally. I released my hold on her arms as though I were physically burned, launching myself away from her and crashing into the wall behind me. My back slammed against the rocks but I felt no pain as my eyes soaked in the shaking, whimpering mess of a girl before me.

" _What_?" I spluttered. Tears gushed from the barmaid's frantic eyes as she pressed herself into the wall and cowered as though she feared I would attack her. When she spoke her words were rushed and broken.

"Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop feeling your hands on my body. I feel so dirty and horrible, that I let you do those things to me! It never should have happened! I was saving myself for my husband, and now I feel so used up and disgusting I can't even look at myself in the mirror! Why did you choose me? Why couldn't you pick some other girl that night?! Why did it have to be me?! Why?!" She screeched at me hysterically, her face red from her effort and tears. I gaped at her, having absolutely no idea what to say, at all. Is this really how I'd made her feel?

"But... but... if you didn't want to do it, why didn't you just... tell me?" I reasoned. It would have been the simple thing to do right? If she truly hadn't wanted to go to bed with me that night, then why hadn't she simply said 'no'? I would have listened, I know I would have! I was drunk, and I was frustrated, but I know I would have listened! I have never, ever, not once, taken a girl against her will. The mere thought sickened me.

She laughed, though with her eyes still flooding with tears it came out as more of a demented cackle. I could only stare. This is not how I imagined my afternoon would go.

"And you would have listened, would you? I told you I didn't want to leave because of my shift! I told you I had never done anything like that before! I was dropping all kinds of hints, but you didn't _want_ to hear them! What was I supposed to do?! Outright _deny_ a _prince_ something he wanted and risk being imprisoned? Risk being _hanged_?! I didn't want to anger you, but I didn't want to do it! You didn't notice my tears?! When I cried as I laid naked on that bed before you?! You didn't want to hear 'no'! All you wanted was to take your pleasure and leave! Everything everyone said about you was true! I wish I'd never gone into that tavern that night! I wish I'd never gotten a job there! I wish I'd never met you!" She shrieked.

I was speechless. I couldn't believe it. Is this really how I had made this girl feel? I hadn't thought about her at all since I left her bed that night, but she'd been agonising over that night ever since? A part of me wanted to deny it, deny the whole thing and bury my head in the sand. Claim that I wasn't a mind reader, and if she hadn't wanted me to take her, then she should have said something! But as my eyes frantically darted across the girl's face for any ounce of mistruth, I was forced to remember...

The way she had tried to pull away from me.

The way she stared so guardedly when I mentioned I was a prince.

The way she shook when we stood outside her house door.

The way her eyes glistened when she admitted she was untouched.

I had seen it all. I knew she didn't want to, knew she was practically forcing herself to go through with it because of my status and I took advantage of it. I saw all the signs, saw it _all_ , but I ignored it. Because I was drunk. I was restless. And because I thought that by spending the night with her, I could erase the longing a little brunette beauty had already stirred in my body.

I felt sick.

Looking at the poor girl's agonising face, I genuinely felt to bend over and wrench the bile all over the hard cobblestone floor.

 _Dear god, what have I done?_

This poor girl, I had used her once and tossed her away like garbage. And she wasn't the first. Is this how every girl I had bed really felt afterwards? There had been so many. So many nameless, faceless women I had used for my own pleasure. Had I left them all feeling like this one girl? Like they were worthless because they weren't worth anything to _me_?

I wanted to deny it. Tell myself no. That most of the women I had taken to my bed had been willing and desperate, and practically begging for it, but...

Just because it was offered, did it really mean I _had_ to take it?

Even if it wasn't offered, simply because it was... available?

My gut wrenched. Is this what Belle felt every time she was intimate with Gaston? If so then... how could Gaston keep going back? There was so much anguish and heartache on this one girl's face. The thought of them _all_ feeling this way...

"I'm... I'm so sorry...I..." I stuttered. Panic and shame clogging every thought in my mind, compounding me with this harrowing, agonising truth. I wasn't even looking the girl in the eye anymore, as my vision blurred with tears of my own. I shoved my hand over my face in an attempt to push the signs of weakness away, but then thought, what was the point?

"I'm a bastard," I admitted, only upon noting the surprise in the girl's wet emerald eyes did I realise I'd made my confession aloud. But I didn't care, She deserved to hear this.

"I'm so sorry. I know its cheap and it's meaningless, and it won't erase what I've done to you but... I am so _so_ sorry. I never meant to make you feel this way, I swear I didn't. But I wasn't thinking. It... It never occurred to me that you might not have wanted it because it _has_ never occurred to me before. I thought, because of my status, because I'm a prince and almost a king, that any woman would want to be with me no matter _who_ she was. But I w-was wrong. I know I was wrong. Please..."

I begged, taking a small step towards her and deflating as she threw herself back, flattening herself into the wall even more. She was still afraid of me. Afraid of what I'd do.

 _Can you blame her? Look what you did to this poor girl! You practically raped her!_

I cringed at my own thoughts, disgust physically engulfing me. But I had to explain myself. Make her understand. This wasn't what I was! It couldn't be!

"I knew you didn't want it," I admitted helplessly, her gasp only solidifying my guilt. "I knew, but I ignored it. Because I was drunk and weak and feeling sorry for myself. And I know that's no excuse. There _is_ no excuse for the way I treated you. But please... you have to know... that that's... not who I am any more. I'm different now, I swear. I've changed. I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but please... say you forgive me." I begged, my gaze boring into her frightened ones, needing to hear her say the words. So many girls. So many nights I thought were only for fun. But this girl before me... I had ruined her. Made her feel about herself the way my parents made _me_ feel about _me_.

The way Gaston made Belle feel about her.

Worthless.

"Your Majesty," I heard the girl whimper, but I'd had enough. I didn't deserve that title. I was completely unworthy.

"Please, don't," I pleaded her, and knowing no other way to show this girl just how unworthy I was, I dropped to my knees.

"Please don't call me that," I begged without looking at her, my eyes burning into the dirty cobblestones I now knelt upon.

"I'm not better than you. My life doesn't mean more than yours because I carry the title of a prince. I'm not entitled to special treatment because of the family I was born in to and I should never have acted like I was. I should never have used my status to intimidate you into giving me something that was never mine to begin with. What you had was precious, and I spoiled it. But it's me who's disgusting, not you. Your not ruined because I chose to take what you didn't give to me willingly, _I'm_ the one who's broken. Please believe me when I say that you are worth the world, and I sincerely hope that one day you meet a man who is worthy enough of you. Far worthier then I will ever be."

And with that I stood, keeping my head down and shamelessly removing the last few streaming tears from my face before letting my arm fall limply to my side. What was the point of hiding it? Let everyone see what a disgrace I truly was.

I was just about to walk away, my left foot stepping back into the crowded marketplace, when,

"Wait, Prince Adam!" I turned at the whimper in her words, my head hung low. Her innocent glistening eyes were almost painful to look into. I truly _was_ unworthy.

"Thank you." She whispered.

 **AAA**

I wasn't in the mood for this, but I absolutely _needed_ to see her. My heated confrontation with the red-haired barmaid had me so disconnected from reality I needed to return to a place where everything was warm and safe again. I needed her, even if I didn't deserve her, I needed her.

I just wasn't prepared to see her with _him_.

"Thank you so much, Belle, I couldn't have done this without you," the young Lumière gushed, before throwing his arms around her neck and engulfing her in a tight, loving hug.

Despite the despair that had been consuming me only seconds before, a red-hot flair of jealously quickly turned my sadness into rage. How _dare_ he?!

Belle giggled sweetly, a noise I normally would have found endearing if it hadn't been because of _him_.

"It's alright Lumière, honestly, you've already thanked me a hundred times! Now get your butt back to the stables before your father has your head for ditching work again." She scolded him fondly, rubbing her soft, dainty hands up and down his dirty back.

 _Don't touch him!_

Lumière smiled the same caring, indulgent smile before releasing her from his grip and gazing at her adoringly.

 _Enough!_

"Uh hem" I coughed pointedly, drawing both their attention towards me. For a fraction of a second, the two looked startled, before they both relaxed and turned to each other once more.

 _What?!_

 _Can you not see me?!_

 _Do you not see I'm furious?!_

 _Don't look at him, look at me!_

I hated this kid! I wanted to run over there and punch the shit out of him! Drag him out of the castle and tie him up and leave him as bait for some prowling, starving animal!

Why did I feel such burning rage? I didn't feel this angry when I knew she had been intimate with Gaston, why was it so strong when I saw her with _this_ asshole?

 _Because she doesn't love Gaston. But this boy... this boy, she_ does _love._

That was it. I couldn't take this any more! All this confusion and uncertainty, coupled with everything else that had happened today... that was it!

"Well, I should probably get back to w-"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?!"

"Adam!" Belle gasped, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her, my gaze boring right into this insignificant little worm I knew she cared for more than me.

"I... I'm sorry?" He stammered, looking at me nervously as though he didn't understand what it was he did wrong. Oh, I was going to enlighten him.

"Didn't you hear Gaston forbid any of the servants from speaking to her!" I demanded of him, nodding my head towards an appalled Belle, but not letting my gaze linger, keeping my eyes narrowed on the filthy wretch before me.

He looked startled at my words, his eyes darting to Belle and back as though asking her to explain my behaviour. When he realised she was just as surprised as he was, he paid his gaze back to my own and dipped his head submissively.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I... no one told me." He stammered, but I could tell he was lying to me, trying to cover his ass like the cowardly weasel he was.

"Well, now that you know, I guess we will not be seeing you in the castle any longer. Now leave, before I let Gaston know that one of his subjects has been blatantly defying his orders!" I snarled, keeping my posture as defensive and threatening as I _could_ keep it, even though I could practically _feel_ the fire raging at me from the pair of beautiful brown eyes across the room.

"Of-of course. I'll go. I'll see you later B- I mean... bye Belle." He told her quickly, before scampering out of the library as though I had set his ass on fire. I watched him run with a deep satisfaction. Satisfaction that was short lived when I turned back towards the room and the fierce lioness glaring at me.

"What the hell was that?!" She screamed, her back bristling, anger and fury potent on her face.

"He shouldn't have been here! He doesn't even work in the castle! I had to warn him to leave you alone!" I defended myself. My words only made her angrier, and she glowered before stomping over to me. I fought with my own body not to retreat.

"You had no right to talk to him that way! How dare you talk down to him like he's dirt on the bottom of your shoe! He's one of the kindest people I've ever met, and you have no right to tell him to stay away from me!"

I did _to_ have the right, but I wasn't going to tell her that, for I feared such a statement would only increase her ire. I had to calm her down, but I was furious as well, and I feared we were both simply feeding off each other.

 _One of the kindest people she's ever met? Oh, I just bet he was._

"Maybe _I_ don't, but I know for a fact that Gaston _does_! Or have you forgotten that he warned all servants away from you under threat of being turned out of the castle?"

"Oh, so you were only trying to protect him? Is _that_ what you're trying to sell me?" She mocked indignantly, glaring up at my advancing hight without a single sliver of fear. I was glad she no longer feared me, but it sure made winning an argument a heck of a lot harder.

"I wasn't protecting him, I was protecting you!"

"By insulting one of my best friends?!"

Best friends. Yeah, I'm sure they were such close _friends._

"Have you forgotten that Gaston has a tendency to lose his temper when you disobey him? You still have the bruises from the _last_ time you did it," I reminded her, staring pointedly at her clothed arm where I knew the black and blue blemishes still lay beneath. "And I remember what he did the time before that, as well," I continued just as tenaciously, feeling slightly guilty as I watched the pain and embarrassment of the memory flash before her eyes. But I kept going, I had to get my point across. "So what exactly do you think he would have done if he had walked in just now, instead of me. I'm just trying to stop you from getting hurt again."

I ranted, panting like a dog, Of course, it wasn't the _real_ reason I had banished Lumière from the room just now, but the excuse was a good one. Belle didn't seem to think as such, however, as she scoffed and waved her hands through the air dismissively.

"Gaston wouldn't have done anything. That threat he made was just him puffing smoke. He does it all the time when he's angry, and when he calms down everything goes right back to normal. He wouldn't have banished Lumière, and he certainly wouldn't have hurt me for talking to him!" She sounded so sure in her words, so certain, so insistent. But I was not convinced. I ladened her with a disproving gaze and raised one eyebrow mockingly.

"Oh really? And what about him catching the two of you with your hands all over each other? Would he have been just as forgiving of _that_ as well?" I demanded of her snidely, watching the red flush right through her porcelain face as she grew more and more enraged.

"We did not have our hands-"

"I saw it with my own eyes, Belle! He was hugging you, and you were letting him! I'm sure Gaston would have been more than happy to let _that_ go!"

"Gaston knows Lumière isn't a threat! We've been over this before, nothing would have happened!"

"Is that so? And why wouldn't he be a threat?"

"Because he's in love with someone else!" She screamed, and all screaming stopped.

As suddenly as my anger had flared, it deflated. In love with someone else? _Really?_

"With who?" I asked her, disbelief rich in my otherwise confused and baffled tone. She scoffed at me, clearly not impressed with my sudden change in moods. The unnatural glare still marring her fair face.

"Seriously Adam? You've been in the same room with the both of them for more than a minute and you couldn't tell? I guess wealth really _doesn't_ equal intellect." She hit back at me maliciously, forcing me to take a step away at the sheer ferocity of her reply. I couldn't blame her for her anger, I had just blatantly lashed out at her for no reason. But... I couldn't help the relief and happiness that was spreading through me in that one single second.

He's in love with someone else? So nothing was happening between the two of them? Nothing _had_ happened between the two of them? How could I have read their relationship so wrong?

 _Because you are an idiot_ , my mind scolded me. It was true, and now I had to recover before she saw the _real_ reason behind my outrage.

"Belle I'm... I'm sorry-"

She scoffed again, looking me over as though I were an impotent child, "You know what Adam? Maybe if you'd stop jumping to conclusions and making your own assumptions, you wouldn't _have_ to apologise all the time. Although, since you say it so often, maybe you _enjoy_ being sorry. Either way, I'm getting a little sick of you constantly saying it to _me_."

I winced, recalling just how much apologising I had done today already. She was right; if only I'd stop fucking up, I wouldn't have to keep begging forgiveness. Why couldn't I ever do anything right?!

"Belle, please just listen! I was... I was only concerned okay! Your my friend now right? And I was only trying to look out for you, like friends do." I stuttered in explanation, hoping upon hope she'd believe me. I felt bad for deceiving her, but I didn't think I was ready to admit my true feelings just yet. I still did not fully understand the relationship she shared with Gaston, and with Mrs Potts' warning still ringing in my ears, I had to be more careful than ever.

I watched as some of her anger simmered away, but her frustration was still potent on her face. I chose to stay quiet, letting her think through all I had just told her and praying she didn't detect my deception.

"Adam, I appreciate you trying to protect me, really I do. But I think it's important for you to realise that I'm _not_ helpless. Gaston and I... what we share between us _is_ a little unconventional, and incredibly difficult to explain, and it may not seem so to a person watching from the outside, but I _can_ handle him.

"He thinks and acts in a very particular way, and its taken me a long time to learn how to navigate myself around him, but I _do_ understand him, in a sense. So, trust me when I say that you don't _have_ to get involved. Everyone's tiptoeing around me right now but, in a few days, his anger will burn out and everything will go back to normal again. So, in future, try _not_ exploding on anyone you see talking to me, because _they're_ the ones that are brave enough to defy him and come to me just to make sure I'm alright. Alright?"

God, I hated that. That by trying to keep myself safe, I had inevitably led her right back to thinking about _him_. It seemed that every conversation we had always led back to him, no matter where we were or what we were doing. I could understand what she was trying to tell me, that her issues with Gaston were _hers_ and she didn't want me anywhere near them. I hated that she didn't trust me enough to involve me in this part of her life, but I was new to this whole 'friend' thing after all. Unlike her and Lumière. I could have kicked myself for failing to recognise what Lumière really was to Belle; a good friend and nothing more. Now Belle only thought that my outburst was centred around Gaston, and she was trying to push me away. It might have been better than her knowing how jealous and possessive over her I'd become, but only by a little. I wasn't reassured about her insistence that she could 'handle' Gaston after everything I had seen, but I understood her need to be independent. She relied on Gaston, for whatever reason, and the price she paid was far from minimal. I guessed the last thing she wanted was to feel dependent on another man.

I got it, I just didn't like it.

Why oh why did she have to be so stubborn?

"I understand," I relented, nodding my head and throwing my hands up in submission, "and I know you're sick of hearing it, but I am sorry for yelling at you, and for yelling at your friend. And if you want, I'll apologise to him also, since you seem to be right, and I am growing a certain attachment to the word." I teased her lightly, my words having the desired effect since her face broke into a small smile and a blush stole her cheeks away. And just like that, I was forgiven again.

For the next half-hour or so, we worked in silence. I couldn't help but continue my little game of looking up at her every few minutes just to watch her while she read. Even though her face showed signs of boredom and her body signs of restlessness, her eyes still sparked with something pure and genuine every time she read anything. It was fascinating for me, much more so then one of my council members droning on for ten pages about the value of baby carrots.

So many things she did fascinated me, in a bunch of new and unexplainable ways, and this afternoon's little adventure had only added more mystery to the girl's life. My face darkened as my thoughts lingered on what the shopkeeper had said, about the villagers treating her and her father badly. About how she was most likely forced to leave the village to live in this castle _because_ of them. It made me furious to know that people had mistreated her, and according to the bookshop owner, so severely it might have changed the goodness in her. Of course, I didn't know what she was like before I met her, but I _did_ know that she was so genuine and kind, that the idea of anyone changing that in her...

"Adam? Are you alright?" She called, I shook myself to see that she was staring back at me expectantly, having caught me staring while I brooded.

"Yes, I'm fine," I muttered quietly, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I met her eyes with fake reassurance.

"Are you sure? You were staring at me, but when I called your name, you didn't answer. And you looked a little... angry. You know you can talk to me right? About anything?" She insisted.

I swallowed heavily. Was she being serious? Could I really talk to her about it? I wasn't going to question her until I felt she was ready to tell me but... would she ever _really_ be ready _unless_ I asked? Would she take offence if I _did_ ask? Would she shut me out again? Was getting the answers I wanted really worth the risk?

"Do you really mean that?" The words slipped out, "Can I really ask you anything?"

"Of course," She said, placing her hand on her heart, her voice filled with nothing but compassion, "Adam you can ask me anything."

I gulped.

"Belle, where's your father?"

* * *

Holy guacamole, next chapter is Belle's story! But, a twist from the author of this Frosted Rose, and a small but interesting challenge I pose. That all you readers tell me why you think Belle is here, and as soon as I have twenty reviews, the chapter will appear!


	19. Lost Beauty

**Lost Beauty**

 **.**

" _What_?" She gasped, as though she misheard me. Whatever she had expected me to say, it sure as hell hadn't been _that_.

"Ever since I got here, I've constantly heard about your father, but I've never seen him in the castle, and you never talk about him. You never tell me anything about your life before you came here, but I _am_... curious. You came out of nowhere Belle, and its like... I _know_ you don't belong here. Not in a bad way, I swear," I insisted, catching a flash of hurt in the midst of her shock, desperately trying to justify my outburst.

"It's just that... you're smart. You're kind. You're clever and selfless and compassionate and forgiving. So, I just really want to know, how someone with all of that potential, could end up _here_. I picture someone with your talents... travelling the world and teaching other people to see it the way you do. Doing something purposeful and meaningful with their lives. Not-"

"Adam please just stop." Her plea pulled me from my absorption only to notice with dismay the sudden wetness of her cheeks.

"You don't know what you're talking about, okay? I'm not any of those things." She insisted, voice thick with denial, denial that baffled me. Did she truly not know her own worth?

"But, Belle, you are. I've travelled the world, been to so many places and seen so many things, but I've _never_ ever met a person quite like you before. You're so kind, so persevering. You see things in such a different way that you've made me see them as well-"

"Adam, STOP!" She screamed. I shrunk away immediately, alarmed by her eruption. What had I done wrong now?

"You... you don't mean any of that! You don't know me! I'm not selfless, I'm not this wonderful person you've just described! I've done horrible things too! I've been petty and selfish and self-absorbed. I've been cold and cruel to the people who love me! I've kept secrets and lied and... ruined lives! So... so don't sit there with stars in your eyes telling me how I don't _deserve_ to be here! This... this is _exactly_ where I deserve to be! I earned this, by doing what I did! This is the punishment I was always meant to have!"

She was so angry. Panting and red-faced and it left me completely winded. So rare was it for her to lose her temper like that, my mind honed in on the words she'd used. _Punishment_? She _deserved_ it? What did she mean she _deserved_ it?

"Belle I... I don't understand. What did you do? What could you possibly have done to deserve _this_?" I asked her bewilderedly, truly not believing a word the girl had said. How could _she_ be selfish? How could _she_ have ruined lives? None of that fit into the image I had in my head, of this perfect, caring loving girl. I refused to believe I could be wrong again. No. I had _seen_ her kindness. Her generous acts of forgiveness and love. There was no way I was wrong!

She glared at me.

"Oh, Adam, you don't understand! And I can't make you! Just forget it!" She gritted furiously, launching abruptly to her feet. _No, I can't let her walk out on me again!_

"Belle, don't," I pleaded, propelling across the table to clasp her wrist before she got away. She looked down at me guardedly as I lay awkwardly sprawled across the wooden surface. Why did she always have to run?

"Don't leave Belle, please. I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry if I offended you or anything! I genuinely only wanted to know about your father!"

Her face transformed in a heartbeat. One minute it held ire and irritation, the next it was shrouded with uncertainty and doubt. She looked so suddenly... deflated, like all the fight had been drained right out of her. After a moment of tense silence, she flopped ungracefully back on her chair, letting out a sigh that nearly matched my relief.

"My father?" She whispered, her gaze a thousand miles away from the candlelit library we both took sanctuary in.

I knew I had to be careful with what I said next. I felt like I was stepping on eggshells. "Yes, I mean, I've shared so many things with you. About my life and my childhood and how I came to be... like this. But, when it comes to you... there's nothing. Why don't you ever talk about yourself? Don't you trust me?" I questioned quietly, trying and failing to keep the vulnerability out of my voice. I guess we weren't such great _friends_ after all.

"Adam, this isn't about not trusting you." She whispered weakly, her eyes shifting to mine in time for me to see her sadness. I didn't want her to be sad, but my thirst for knowledge was nearly overwhelming me. Despite my earlier promise that I wouldn't push her for answers and instead would wait for her to be ready, this day had taken its toll on me. I needed _something_.

"Just, tell me something... _anything_ ," I begged, desperately capturing her gaze in my own, refusing to let it go. I so wanted to understand. "Tell me how you came to be in the castle. Tell me how you met Gaston. Tell me where your family is. Anything. You don't have to keep secrets from me. Remember what you said, about me being able to talk to you about anything? Well, you can talk to me too. I promise I won't tell anyone just... just let me _in_."

I couldn't stand the vacant look in her eyes. Though she was here in this room with me, she could have been anywhere. I didn't know if she was deep in thought or if she was reliving all the memories I had just pleaded with her to share, but I wanted her to come back to me. I wanted her to trust me like I trusted her. Hesitantly, I reached out and clasped my hand around her smaller one before she could recognise and pull away. Her skin was so soft and supple. Perfect. Just like her.

"I can't answer any of those questions without telling you about my father," She murmured quietly, almost as though she hadn't meant to say it aloud. I sat up eagerly.

"Then tell me about him. Tell me where he is or-"

"Would you like to meet him?"

 **AAA**

I was excited, there was no denying it, I practically bounced on the balls of my feet as I followed Belle through the halls of the castle.

 _She's finally introducing me to her father!_

I had _so many_ questions, and perhaps, if I couldn't get the answers from her, her mysterious parent would be the next best thing. I could ask him of his origins. How he and Belle ended up in this castle. Why I had never seen him and Belle in the same room before! Who knew, perhaps there was even a chance he would enlighten me to the strange connection between Belle and Gaston. As a parent, wouldn't he himself be concerned about what his daughter had been doing? Why was he letting it continue?

So many _questions_.

I was a little concerned as I recognised I was being led right towards the castle hospice, but only until I remembered that he was supposed to be sick. But, how long _had_ he been sick? It was months ago that Belle had received the letter regarding her father's worsening condition, which had led to her little misadventure in the woods. And who knew how long he had been here before then? Just how sick _was_ he? Was it terminal? Was it contagious? No, he wouldn't be here if he was. I was sure there was some rational explanation for all of this and was glad Belle had her back to me as she walked to the hospice doors for I was practically shaking with anticipation. She knocked.

A surprisingly young girl with tightly tied blond hair and a rigid face pulled the door open. She was dressed in a long white robe, but she looked far too young to be a nurse. An apprentice, perhaps? Either way, her stony face grew even more sour as her eyes met Belle's. Before either of us could say anything, she tisked in disgust and started to rant.

"I sincerely hope you have a letter, otherwise there is simply no excuse to be bothering us this late! It's past visiting hours! You _know_ the rules!" She snarled before Belle even spoke a word. Letter? Why would Belle possibly need a letter to enter the castle's hospice? Had the rules changed since I was last here?

Surprisingly, Belle matched the nurse's contemptuous look and scoffed at her rudeness; they clearly weren't the best of friends.

"You _know_ Gaston gave me full visiting rights for the remainder of the week Santana, he told Doctor Youdull two days ago. Please just let me through," She snapped impatiently. The girl's upper lip almost curled over her top teeth as Belle said Gaston's name, before sinisterly twisting into a rotten smirk. Her squinty eyes were completely cold as she looked Belle over condescendingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid Doctor Youdull has already retired for the evening. Without him here to verify your story, I can't let you in without permission," She cooed mockingly. Belle clenched her jaw. I had rarely seen her so angry.

"Get out of my way Santana! Stop acting like you own this whole hospice! Doctor Youdull must have told you about Gaston giving me permission already, he always does. Now move!" _I_ almost retreated at the sheer ferocity of sweet Belle's reply. Her outburst was so out of character, but she had been acting strangely from the moment I mentioned her father. Was she just misappropriating anger meant for me?

The nurse's body went completely stiff, her eyes nearly spitting fire as her teeth clashed together.

"And maybe _you_ need to stop acting like you _own_ this whole damn castle!" Santana hissed, shaking with outrage as she took a step towards Belle as though to intimidate her. Neither of them was even acknowledging me.

"You think just because Prince Gaston lives between your legs that you have the right to order me around and go wherever you please?! Get the fuck off your high horse you unworthy little-"

"Enough!" I yelled, unable to bear any more bile from this rancid girl's mouth. She turned her glare on me, before recognition and finally fear stole across her face.

"Your Majesty!" She squealed in surprise, flushing a deep red in embarrassment. I may not have known the reason for her hostility towards Belle, but I didn't care. Belle was my friend and I wasn't going to stand here and listen to this insignificant woman insult her. I glared right back.

"She asked you to move. I would suggest doing so, unless you would like me to see to it you be moved from this entire kingdom." I told her coldly, before remembering how little Belle approved of me using my status to force others into submission. Well, I had to draw a line somewhere. Blatant disrespect would _not_ be tolerated, weather Belle liked it or not. But considering how little she seemed to like this girl, I hoped she wouldn't hold it against me. I took a peek at her from the corner of my eye, to see her looking completely unconcerned. Well, at least she wasn't angry.

The same could not be said for the girl before me, as her left eye twitched and she breathed in deeply. It was almost as if she was considering denying us access despite my threat, but after shifting her scornful gaze between us several times, did she finally relent.

She moved out of the doorway with an impatient huff, and I gestured for Belle to go in first just so I could glare at the girl until she lost her nerve and scampered off.

 _I'll be getting_ her _name later._

"What was that about?" I asked as Belle headed towards a small desk in the centre of a relatively empty entryway. She picked up a quill and signed her name on a long scroll of parchment, sharing a small smile with the man standing behind it as he nodded to her and passed her a lit candle on a plate. She thanked him quietly before leading me towards another door.

"She doesn't like me," Belle told me shortly, as she opened the door and walked right through. I was a little surprised neither of us was stopped or at least asked to wear masks, but it only made me believe that her father's condition couldn't have been _that_ serious.

"Yes, that much I noticed, but why? Why was she so against you being here?" I inquired as I followed her down a thin, sparsely lit white stone hallway. There were no windows, only doors lining both sides. Doors that most likely hid sick patients behind them. We passed a few people headed towards the entryway, but was barely spared a glance. Belle must have been a regular visitor here.

"Your guess is as good as mine. She's had it in for me from the first day I got here. I suppose she just doesn't like me getting 'special' treatment." She commented, stressing 'special' as though she believed her treatment was anything but. I didn't understand.

"Special treatment?"

She shrugged.

"You heard her, its passed visiting hours. But as long as I have permission from Gaston I can come here pretty much whenever I want. I guess she resents me for it. I really don't know." She remarked flippantly, but my mind raced. Placing a hand on her shoulder, I used my grip to turn her to face me.

"Why would you need Gaston's permission to visit your own father?" I asked her, completely perplexed. Just a moment ago, I was relieved that we wouldn't have to wear masks to visit him, but now I was truly questioning the stability of this man. Why would she need to seek Gaston's permission to see her own sick parent? Was he dangerous? Violent? I sought her face for answers but she averted her eyes, a small pool of colour lighting her cheeks as though she was caught doing something she shouldn't have. Finally, she looked up at me, her sad little smile making me frown.

 _What..?_

"You'll understand everything, Adam. Once you meet him." She assured me quietly, before taking me alarmingly by surprise by grabbing my hand. She turned and pulled me onward. I followed blindly, almost all thought forgotten as I stared at our interlocked fingers.

 _What is this feeling?_

Finally, Belle stopped at a heavy wooden door. It looked the same as all the rest, except for the three thick metal bolts sealing it shut. I watched in confusion as Belle slowly pulled apart all three locks, and had just enough time to wonder why those things would be there in the first place, when Belle pushed it open.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

It looked more like a suite than a hospital room. With a fairly large amount of open space to walk in. There was a bathtub in the corner, as well as a lavatory, two large windows shining a tiny scrap of night light through two sets of metal bars, and a rather hefty looking wardrobe against the far left wall. But to my right, the least and _most_ surprising of all, was a bed. With a man sleeping inside it.

The man was short, that much I could tell even though half his body was covered in sheets. He had a softly wrinkled face, a small tufted of fuzzy white hair and a rather thin looking mouth covered by lips that looked bitten and chewed on more times than was healthy. He was rather pale and thin, but that wasn't the most alarming thing. No, what surprised me the most was that he was strapped down.

His arms and legs were both bound to the metal railing of the bed. Thick leather restraints chained him as he slept rather peacefully before me. Noticing how odd it was, I took a closer look at his hands, only to see that they were too covered in thick leather gloves, tied tightly around his wrists and pinned under the restraints, making it impossible for him to escape. What..?

"Its so he doesn't scratch his skin during the night," Belle's voice came out of nowhere, scaring me to high heaven. I jumped and spun, noticing with surprise that she had been lighting candles in the room this whole time. My cheeks flared red at having been caught staring, but... at what?

If this was her father, why was he tied down? I thought he was sick, not...

"Hi, Papa," She whispered to the man, setting the candle down on a bedside table before taking a seat on a chair by his side.

"I've brought someone here to meet you. His name is Adam, and he's my friend. He's a prince, like Gaston, but don't worry, he's not like him. He really wanted to meet you." She spoke so softly, looked upon him so tenderly. I watched as she leaned forward to lightly brush a few strands of stray hair away from his damp forehead, all the while staring at his sleeping face with so much gentle adoration. It would have been a sweet sight, if my chest hadn't been constricting.

The locked door. The large barred windows. The restraints. All of it reminded me of my grandmother. The feeling I felt when I first laid eyes upon her feeble form quaking in that metal chair completely engulfed me, and I found myself struggling to breathe. I took several long deep breaths to calm myself while Belle was distracted, but the panic was all consuming. I felt sick, like the air was too thick to breathe in. Finally, all I could manage to do was choke out one single word.

"What..?"

"You said you wanted to know why I was here. Why I never talk about what my life was like before I came here. Well, it's all to do with him." Her voice was sad and drained, her eyes never leaving her sleeping father's face as though she weren't even speaking to me at all.

I didn't understand.

"Take a seat," She insisted quietly. I was glad she wasn't watching me because my hands were shaking. I tried to behave as casually as possible as I pulled a chair away and sat, so we were directly opposite each other. The bed where her father lay the only thing between us. It felt like miles.

"If you really want to know, then I'll tell you. But I warn you now, it's not a particularly pleasant tale, and, well... you might not _want_ to be friends after you learn the truth about me." She turned upon saying this, exhaustion and resignation looking me dead in the eye. Her words sounded ridiculous, but she was completely unwavering in her conviction. Not capable of scrounging a response, I merely nodded, and she began to speak.

"My mother came from a wealthy family. Don't ask me too many questions about them, I don't really know much. All I know is that she had three brothers, five sisters and two completely overbearing parents. They had plans for all their children; big plans, apparently. But their plans for my mother were interrupted when she met Papa.

"She always told me the first thing she ever noticed about him was his hands. How they were dry and cracked and brittle, but they were working mans hands. Hands of a man who loved his work, and loved it when his work brought joy to others. He was selling little inventions by the roadside, and when he saw her, he reached up and presented her with a gift. A little toy bird that pecked up and down. And she was so grateful for it, something _made_ by those hard working hands... that she loved him from the very start.

"But, apparently, her parents didn't find the beauty in his work quite the way she did. They wanted her to marry some rich duke, and they didn't care if she didn't love him or if she loved someone else. All they thought about was continuing the glory of the family name. When she refused to leave my father, they gave her an ultimatum; she brake all ties with Papa and marry the duke, or they would disown her, and leave her with nothing. She told me it was one of the most difficult choices she'd ever made in her whole life, but she chose Papa.

"Well, they were true to their word, and forced her to leave their home with nothing but the clothing on her back. But it turns out, that was really all she needed. You see, she had a ring. A gift given from her great-grandmother before she passed. And it broke her heart to part with it, but she always said how important it was to build your future, not sit wallowing in the wreckage of your past. So she sold it, her and Papa moved to the kingdom of Blé, bought a farm, and had me."

"You grew up on a farm?" I asked her suddenly, temporarily forgetting my anxiety attack over my curiosity. I didn't know why I hadn't guessed it. Her ease around animals and how willing she was to throw herself into manual labour, even when it wasn't required of her. It suited her perfectly, and another piece of her puzzle slotted into place. She gave me a sparkling smile.

"I grew up... learning how to tend wounded animals and harvest fruits and vegetables. We milked cows and sheared sheep and were chased all around the paddock when we went hunting for eggs. There was so much joy and laughter in my home Adam, you just can't even imagine. My Papa, he wasn't a particularly big or strong man but he was tenacious, got any work done, no matter what it was, and my mother... she was so... _gentle_. She cared so much, about everything. Me, Papa, the animals, the people in our village; everyone loved her, but I did the most. Every evening after a long days work, she'd sit down by the fire, put me on her lap and read me a story.

"She loved reading, our little cottage was filled with books. She could read me a story I had heard a thousand times and I'd still be on the edge of my seat with every word. She made the _journey_ exciting, you know? Because that's what she said always mattered most. Not how you started, or where you ended up, but the journey you took across your life to be who you were always meant to be. I loved her so much. I loved my Papa too, don't mistake me, but... she was our heart."

Her eyes sparkled with a beauty that took my breath away. She really _did_ love her mother. But a cold feeling of dread consumed me as her smile melted from her face, only to be replaced with brimming eyes and a trembling, quivering bottom lip, "So when we lost her... it was like we lost _our_ hearts as well."

I swallowed harshly. She was in so much pain.

"Papa and I... we didn't know how to function on our own, without her in between us, guiding us. We just... completely broke down. Stopped talking, stopped spending time together. We worked on the same farm, shopped in the same market, ate at the same table but it was like... we were strangers. I know my mother would have been ashamed of us for how we behaved, but... I didn't know how to live without her, and neither did he. She was so important to the both of us, that, after she passed, it felt like _I_ was the one who stopped living. I didn't know how to reach out to Papa any more. And I'm sure that's how he felt about me so... we didn't try.

"And things went on like that for years." I could feel her shame and regret that she had allowed her relationship with her father to deteriorate after her mother's passing. I wished I could offer some words of comfort, but, really, what could I possibly say? The confusion as to why she was speaking about her father like he wasn't _right here_ in the room with the two of us was still heavily confounding me, but I knew _now_ was not the time to ask questions. So I didn't say anything. Merely looked on sympathetically as she continued with her story.

"So, a few years passed, and things stayed the same. Then, one year, the village got word of a particularly harsh winter soon to be befalling us. Our village, it mainly consisted of old couples and families with children. There were no strapping young men, and my father was worried that we wouldn't be able to collect enough firewood before winter fell. I was shocked one morning, to hear him bashing about in one of the old barns. It was where he use to do all of his inventing, but he had shut the whole thing up after Mama passed. I was... rather stunned that he had chosen to go back in there, but I didn't disturb him. He stayed in there for four straight days, only coming out to eat or sleep. I wanted to ask him what he was doing, but, we still weren't really talking so... I kept quiet, and waited. Then, one afternoon, he called me in. He sounded... really excited... which was a first, for years. I never could have guessed what was waiting for me in there.

"It looked like a monster. A huge clunky device. A complete mishmash of different objects all stuck together. And before I could even ask him what it was it was supposed to be, he gave me a demonstration. He lifted a thick chunk of wood and put it on the machine, and then pressed a button. And before my very eyes, this... _monstrosity_... shred the whole log into perfect pieces in a matter of seconds. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen!"

I gasped, she didn't mean..?

"The woodcutter in the boiler room?" I asked excitedly, but she held up her hand to hush me.

"I'll get to that," She told me shortly, indulging me with a small smile, just enough to shut me up. But honestly, I could not wait to hear more. That machine was a work of pure genius, and her _father_ had made it? I looked at the sleeping man before me with new eyes, almost as though I expected him to bounce up from the bed and introduce himself, but he remained blissfully unaware of our presence as Belle began to talk again.

"The machine was amazing, and he used it to cut everyone's wood for that whole winter. The entire village hailed him a hero because of it, and I was... so proud of him. He used to make little inventions all the time but hadn't made anything since we lost her. I thought, that maybe... _this_ was what we needed. A sign that we could possibly... start moving on from our grief. I told him how proud I was, and how happy I was that he was inventing again, for he loved it so. And he looked at me and smiled and... I had my Papa back."

She beamed, tears in her eyes. But her happiness, as quickly as it appeared, vanished.

"After that, every year he used his machine for our wood as well as the neighbours. He was famous for it, at least in our little village. So, when word came to us about an inventors competition being hosted in the kingdom of Ingenieur, where the winner of the best invention would receive a big bag of gold as well as an audience with the king, everyone was encouraging him to go, including me." She grimaced, and I was dumbfounded. I had _never_ heard of Silas hosting a competition before. What could have been the purpose? Was Silas really the reason she was in this castle? Obviously, everything that was happening in her story was before her father got sick. I looked at the older man again, and barely contained myself from asking Belle to hurry it along, just so I could understand why all of this made sense.

"He was gone for five days, and to be honest I was getting a little worried about him. He hadn't sent word back to me and I didn't really know how long the fair was supposed to last. I was seriously considering going after him by the sixth day, but he did return. The smile he had on his face..." She sighed reminiscently, her lips quirking indulgently while her eyes spoke a different emotion.

"He won?" I questioned, not at all content with her silence. I fiddled with my fingers to hide my eagerness, nervousness, anxiety and impatience. I so badly wanted to know everything. Now I was so close, to wait another minute felt like complete torture.

"Hands down," She declared with a proud grin.

"Everyone was so happy for him, they even threw him a little celebration party. He looked like _he_ couldn't even believe he had won, and had this... completely bizarre look on his face the whole night. I could tell there was something he wasn't telling me," Her smile slipped again, and she broke eye contact to stare at her father's face once more.

 _Please tell me. Please tell me. Please tell..._

"At the end of the night, after the party was over and we finally made it home, I asked him if something was bothering him. He was happy, I could tell, but he also seemed... nervous about something. It seemed like he had been avoiding me all night, even though he had been right beside me the whole time. He hadn't really answered any of my questions about what this kingdom was like, or how his audience with the king went, and I just didn't understand why. He told me to sit down at the table, and took a seat beside me, and then he took my hand and made me promise not to say anything until he was finished.

"Well, it turned out, that to everyone's surprise, the king himself was at the competition, not only to observe, but to judge it. Apparently, it was all a scheme orchestrated by him to hunt down the next big invention that he could build and sell to other kingdoms overseas. And he was so impressed by my fathers' work, that he not only offered him the winners prize, but he also offered him a job."

How unlike Silas. I had never heard of him doing anything like that before. Could it be that business was slowing while I was away, or had he truly been looking to expand the reach of his empire? I could certainly see why Belle's father's machine would have been so appealing. It did the job of ten men in a third of the time. Selling such an invention to other kings and wealthy men would certainly make Silas a healthy profit, and the picture of why the two of them were here became all the clearer. But still... she didn't sound happy.

"There was only one catch," She muttered quietly, her gaze cast down to her cloaked knees. I couldn't help myself.

"Which was?" I asked, trying _not_ to sound like I was rushing her to answer, even though I was. Why did she look so suddenly put out? She sighed, resigned and moulded a frown.

"We had to move."

She sounded miserable.

"Obviously, the king would want my father as close as possible, so he offered him residence in his kingdom while Papa built machines for him. He was so nervous when he told me, it was like he was expecting me to burst into tears or scream at him or something. And honestly, I kind of felt like doing both. He was asking me to leave. Leave the place I had lived all my life. Leave my friends, leave my animals, leave the only place in the world that still held memories of my mother. I... I couldn't believe him. But... I _knew_ he wanted it. It was what he'd always wanted, to be an inventor. He put his dream on hold to be with me and my mother, but now was his opportunity. And I could tell... this wasn't a decision he had made lightly. I knew he'd miss the village every bit as much as I would, but he wanted to do it. And he couldn't, without moving to Ingenieur. I hated that he was forcing me to make this decision, but I knew... I knew if I told him I didn't want to leave, then neither would he. He would stay with me, and spend the rest of his life dreaming about what could have been. And that's exactly why I agreed."

She let out a long sigh, shifting her arms to rest her elbows on her knees and lean her chin against her clasped hands. I couldn't tell if her sudden demeanour was due to regret, or sadness. Judging by our current situation, I would guess the former.

What had happened?

"We stayed in this castle in the beginning. The king planned to move us into a cottage on the edge of the village, but it had been unoccupied for years, so we were given two rooms while it was being fixed up. I spent most of my time hiding, trying not to let my father see how sad I was. I was homesick before the first week passed, but he was acting as though he had finally gotten his life back. I'm ashamed to say a part of me resented him for it, but I knew how much he suffered after my mama died. If doing this job was what finally made him smile again, then all I could really do was hide my sadness and be there for him, like he had always been for me. It got a little easier once I found the library."

I chuckled at that, couldn't help it, knowing how much she loved it in there. But I was becoming perturbed by the range of emotions dancing across her face. The flickering candles around the room only made it more difficult to guess what it was she was truly feeling. The shadows pranced all around her, shrouding her in darkness. Was it an omen of what was to come?

"That place was my sanctuary long before I thought I needed one. I was amazed the first time I stumbled upon it. There were _so many books_ , but the room looked like it hadn't been used in years. I was even worried I wasn't supposed to be in there, but nobody ever stopped me. I spent hours in that room, while Papa was off discussing matters with the king or perfecting designs for his machine. He tried to encourage me to come out and interact with people, sit at the dining table for dinner since the king had offered us a place there, but I was too nervous. I wasn't used to all of this. I missed the simplicity of my village, this place was far too grand and polished and I didn't feel comfortable here. The only room I _did_ seek comfort in was the library, but that changed to, the day I met _him_."

"Who?" I asked, even though I had a feeling I already knew. There was but one significant other who had yet to be introduced to her story.

"It was the first time I caught someone else in the library. I went in after lunch only to hear... moaning. I thought someone might be hurt," She laughed at herself, and I couldn't help but share her embarrassed smile. "But of course, instead of calling out and asking if anyone was there, I decided the best idea was to _follow_ the noises. I could hear groaning and books being knocked off the shelf and I genuinely assumed someone might have gotten hurt. It never once occurred to me it would be anything else. So I walked up the steps to the second level and searched through rows of bookcases and... that was the first time I saw Gaston. Saw more of him then I would have liked to."

Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see the red in her cheeks, she surely must have been innocent before that day, to have _that_ kind of reaction. I was quite taken with her blush, but she pushed herself forward before I could embarrass myself by saying so.

"He caught me, I know he did. In that split second when I was far too stunned to move. The girl didn't notice, she was a little too... distracted. But _he_ saw me. And I ran. I didn't know who he was at that time. I knew King Silas had a son who was coming of age, but I didn't know what he looked like and... I could never have imagined I would have caught him doing _that_. Anyway, I was so embarrassed I didn't even want to go back in there, for fear of the same thing happening again. But it wasn't long after that Papa announced that our new home was finally ready, and I was more than happy to leave. The day we were packing up our belongings and bringing our bags down to the carriage, I was walking down the hallway when someone called out to me. Not by name, but I turned anyway, and I saw him coming straight towards me.

"Again, I didn't know who he was, back then he was just some man I had caught in a highly intimate position. I thought that he was angry with me but... he wasn't, even then I could tell the way he looked at me wasn't... angry." She shook her head, eyes closed. Her grimace told me everything.

"He told me he couldn't stop thinking about me since the moment he caught me staring at him. I didn't know how to react. We were in a small deserted hallway and he had me up against the wall, and I was so embarrassed and nervous that I couldn't think of a single thing to say, so I just stood there in silence while he went on about how beautiful I was and how he'd been searching the whole castle for me and how it was like I had vanished into thin air. I told him I had to leave, but he just put his finger against my lips to silence me. He asked for my name, and stupidly, I gave it to him. I may not have known he was a prince, but he was still twice my size and intimidating. I had never been spoken to the way he spoke to me that day, and I just kept praying that one of the servants would walk by or my father would come up to see what was taking me so long. I kept telling him I was in a hurry and had go, but he just... completely ignored me. He was so _arrogant_. Even back then. And I couldn't stand to listen to some of the things he was... proposing. He was acting like I should have been grateful to have captured his attention, and he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I definitely was not. And then... then... he leaned down to kiss me.

"Now, I'd never been kissed before, never done anything... before him. So... when I saw him leaning down... coming right towards me without my permission or consent... the only thing I could think to do was... was..."

"Was?" I asked, literally hanging on the edge of my seat. Her face scrunched together, and her teeth snagged her plump bottom lip as she flushed ripe cherry-red.

"I kneed him."

I cringed, barely containing myself from covering my manhood. I was astonished by Belle's audacity. Even without knowing he was a prince, that was a pretty audacious move to make. I could only imagine how angry Gaston must have been. Honestly, the parallels between Belle and Gaston's first meeting, and how I had first met Marie simply astounded me, but there was one thing that surprised me even more. She still looked _guilty_ about it.

"I didn't know what else to do!" She defended, clearly catching my look of distress. Slumping in her seat, she ran an agitated hand through her hair before gripping at it tightly. "I had never been in that kind of position before! No man had ever looked at me that way, let alone made those kinds of advances. Thinking back, there was probably a lot of other things I could have done but... at that moment... with how panicked I was... I just... reacted. I ran down the hallway while he was on the floor, and I didn't look back until I got to the carriage. I didn't tell my father what happened, I just hoped that I would never see him again. The first of many foolish things I hoped for." She sighed regretfully.

I wondered what she meant by that. Obviously, that would not be the last time she met Gaston, and there was no doubt in my mind that he had made her pay for that at one point or another, but now I was even more curious. She left to live in the village, so how did she get back here?

"The cottage was lovely, really really beautiful. It was surrounded by flowers and lots of open land. There was a barn for my horse, and Papa had his own barn where he could build his machines. I was excited to be back in a familiar environment. I thought... that this village would be exactly like my old one, and I could make friends and finally get back to some kind of normality. I had been there a matter of days before I realised how stupid that was."

"What do you mean?" I interrupted another breathing break. There was a strangely sour look on her face, as though she was trying not to be angry, but realised she was failing. Her eyes met mine as her left eyebrow twisted. She looked at me expectantly, only I didn't know what she was expecting.

"Really, Adam? You really can't guess why the people in that village would have been less than welcoming towards us?"

Her words confused me. Why would the villagers dislike her? The old man in the bookshop had said his neighbours had done some horrible things to her, but he never explained _why_. What had Belle and her father even done before they moved from the castle? The way Belle told it, all she had done was keep to herself while her father started building his machines for the king.

His machines...

Wait.

"One of your father's inventions was in the boiler room. Does that mean that all the men who worked cutting the wood before..?"

"Yes." She confirmed my theory before I even finished the words, and looked completely miserable for it.

"My father never meant to hurt anyone. He built that machine to make peoples lives easier, not to lose people their jobs. But clearly, the villagers didn't quite see it that way. A lot of men lost their livelihood because the king decided they were disposable, but obviously, my father was far easier to blame than the king, so... we were hated before we even stepped foot in that village."

"Did they do something to you?" I demanded to know, ready to charge straight down to that cesspool if they had. I wasn't going to admit to Belle I had a little piece of this puzzle already, but if any of them had hurt her specifically... well... I wouldn't be held accountable for my actions. She looked surprised by my sudden rage, but her face gave nothing away. She shook her head quietly.

"Not physically. Not at first. We were still under the king's protection at that time after all. It was more... the way they behaved around us. The snide looks and the whispering and the way they spoke to us... like we were dirt. Some of the women tried to give me a chance to redeem myself in their eyes, but they quickly lost interest when they realised I wasn't at all interested in sowing or... gossiping about the most eligible bachelors in the kingdom. The only person in that village I could really talk to was Monsieur Bernard. He owned a bookstore down there, the first person I had met in a long time that shared my passion for them. He hired me as his assistant even though I doubted he needed the help. He was probably just excited to have someone to talk to, he wasn't really accepted either, thanks to his 'odd' profession. But he was a wonderful man. I miss him sometimes." She murmured with a sad smile, her voice so soft and affectionate when talking about the merchant. Why did she miss him? Why had she never returned to the village? What had those bastards done to her?

"But the rest of them..." She shook herself, "they shunned us. The strange thing was Papa didn't even seem to notice. He was just so happy, finally doing what he had always dreamed of doing for a living. And when I asked him how he managed to not let it get to him, he told me that the only person he needed in his life was right there in front of him. That he had his family, and that was _all_ he needed. And I realised how right he was. So what if the villagers didn't like us? So what if they didn't accept us? I had my Papa back. After years of being completely unable to reach him, I had him _back_. I had a friend in Monsieur Bernard, a job, Papa was making good money as well and... he was finally happy. _We_ were happy. And for the first few months... everything was perfect.

"And then it wasn't."

My heart squeezed as her gentle smile collapsed. Her gaze sought her father, who had yet to make a single acknowledgement that we were in the room. I braced myself for the worst.

"It started with little things at first, he'd put something down and then... forget where he put it. Or... we'd be in the middle of talking and... he'd just... forget what we were talking about. Little things. Things that happened to everyone. And I didn't think that it was such a big deal... until... the little things started getting bigger.

"Dangerous tools left on the floor. Boiling water kept on the stove. Sometimes he would say something that... made absolutely no sense at all. And when I asked him about it... he acted like he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. I knew something was wrong but... I ignored it. I told myself that it was just stress, just the stress of his new job. That he hadn't been a professional inventor in over seventeen years and all this work was simply overwhelming him, and as soon as he got back into the swing of things, everything would be normal again. But I was wrong.

"One time I was at the bookstore when I started hearing laughter coming from outside. It was a market day, so all the villagers were in town, and it sounded like all of them were out there, laughing. Normally, I would have ignored it, but, I just really wanted to know what was supposed to be so damn funny. So, I went outside, fought my way through the crowd, and there he was. Papa," She choked, eyes brimming with a single layer of tears she quickly tried to hide away. She rubbed a rough hand down her face, and downcast her eyes as she continued to talk as though I were no longer in the room.

"He was hysterical. Standing in the centre of all of the villagers, screaming at them. Demanding to know who they were and... where he was. They were laughing at him! No one tried to help him, no one tried to talk to him, they were all just... _enjoying_ the _show!_ I ran up to him, put my hands on his shoulder and called out his name, and the second he saw me, he seemed to calm down. Then he looked around and asked me what was going on. I should have said something then. I should have _told_ him something was wrong. I should have taken him to the hospice and... and tried to get him some help. But I didn't. I was too afraid. I had finally got him back. We were a _family_ again, he was _happy_ again, and... I felt like... if I admitted there was a problem and said it out loud... it would make it real. I would ruin _everything_. So I kept quiet. And that was the biggest mistake I ever made."

She sniffled, big wet tears cascading down her cheeks no matter her obvious efforts to prevent them. I couldn't help but stare, her pain so potent it was drawing me in, searing its way through my whole body. What she was describing, it sounded familiar, I had heard of such mental disabilities before, but almost couldn't believe it had happened to _her_ father. It wasn't very well known, and I couldn't fault her for not understanding what was happening. My eyes flashed to the sleeping man. Why did she look so _guilty?_ What had she done wrong?

"One night, I was walking home from work, when, off into the distance, there was this... massive explosion. I knew it was him. I knew it was him before I even saw it. Everyone took off running towards the blast, and what I saw..." She shut her eyes, her breathing hoarse, "His barn. The one where he built all his inventions... it was... completely destroyed.

"I kept praying that he wasn't in there. I ran all around the house screaming for him, begging him to answer me. But I knew... I knew..." She whimpered.

"One of the men who had run towards the blast called out for me, and I went running out and... there he was. Papa. He was alive, but barely. They pulled him out from under the barn door, and it must have shielded most of him from the blast but... his _hands_...

"I spent weeks in the hospital, waiting for him to wake up. A lot of the minor cuts and bruises had healed, but his hands... The doctor told me there was a chance he would never be able to move them properly again. And I knew he'd be devastated. Inventing was his life, and to be told that he would never be able to do it again... it would crush him. It was all my fault."

"Belle..." I began, determined to deny her claim, but she spoke right over me.

"No, Adam, it was! If I had told him what was going on! Told him how forgetful he was becoming! Warned him about how unsafe it was to continue building those heavy machines, he _never_ would have been in that barn that day! I kept quiet because I didn't want to ruin his dream and in the end, I ended up doing exactly that!

"When he finally woke up, and I explained what had happened, and he looked at his hands... it was like a part of him _broke_ that day. And that was only the beginning." She huffed heavily, eyes closed and another tear fell.

"After that, everything just... seemed to fall apart. He became... completely detached. He'd walk around the house, mumbling to himself, saying things that didn't make sense and... sometimes he'd even say hurtful things. He didn't act like my Papa any more, it was like a stranger was slowly taking over his body, and I was losing pieces of him with every day that passed. I wrote letters to the king, explaining what had happened while he was in the hospital, but I never got a reply. I hired a nurse to look after him during the day, so I could go to work, but after the first few weeks, she quit. Moved to another town. No one else would take the job, no matter how much money I offered, and I knew he couldn't be left in the house alone so... I resigned. Stayed home and tried to take care of him. But I was in way over my head.

"I should have anticipated how the villagers would react." Her face twisted. In the midst of her grief and all of her guilt, a blossom of anger was blooming beneath the surface. What had they done to her?

"The first time I brought him out with me after the explosion, they acted like we had the plague. Women hid their children, merchants refused to serve us, all I wanted was to buy some food for us to eat, but it was clear they didn't want us there. They were using my father's accident as an excuse to justify their hatred, but they never wanted us in their village, and now they wanted us out even more. I took him home after people started throwing things, and I cried through the whole night. There was no one there to help us. No one there for me to talk to or to lean on. I had no one. Only him. And I didn't know how much longer I could keep him with me after the first letter came."

"Letter?" I questioned, not daring to reply in anything louder than a whisper. She nodded sadly, gaze firmly fixed on her fingers. Her cheeks were still glistening, and I could tell just how difficult this was for her to talk about. A strange thought interrupted my focus as I considered: maybe I was the first person she had told this story too. But surely that couldn't be right, right? She was close with Mrs Potts, with Lumière, Fifi and even Fife as I had observed. Surely she must have told _one_ of them about all of this. Of course, her distress was understandable but... she did seem awfully upset. Could it be..?

"Have you ever heard of Maison De Fous?" She asked me quietly, looking so rough and hollow as though too tired to express emotions. Opposingly, I gaped in awe. She couldn't mean...

"The mental asylum?" I choked. That place was the stuff of nightmares. A 'hospital' that housed some of the most sadistic and crazy of criminals as well as people who were considered too unstable to stand in society. I had heard horror stories about some of the things that place did to their 'patients', and though I was in a mind that some of them most definitely deserved it, I was equally appalled that Belle's father could have been considered by that place. So far, it sounded as though he hadn't done anything wrong. And with Belle there to care for him, how could they have possibly known about his mental state?

"Apparently, they had received several letters about an _unstable_ man causing a great deal of distress amongst the _innocent_ villagers of the town of Peu. I was... astounded they would do something like that. Yes, I knew that they didn't like us, and now with my father's condition we were considered bigger freaks then we were before, but I didn't expect _that_. The letter stated that I had been given a warning and if I could not keep this 'menace to society' out of the public eye, that they would come and they would take him from me. After that, it was clear I couldn't take him into the village again. I paid a little boy to bring us groceries behind his mothers back, but I couldn't leave, not with this threat hanging over my head. So I didn't.

"I was suffocating in that house, Adam. Most days I couldn't even go outside. I had to keep the curtains closed because the sunlight upset him, and so every day was just me, sitting in the dark, watching a man I once knew as my father pace around in circles and spit insults at me. I wrote letter after letter to the king, begging for some help, some advice, but he never replied. And with neither of us working, it wouldn't be long before the money ran out.

"I was failing. I couldn't get him to eat, or wash. He'd scream at me every time I tried to put him to bed. I had to barricade the door close and listen to him call me all kinds of names before he finally passed out. There wasn't a single second of the day I had to myself. I barely scraped enough time at night to feed the animals I had left, but other than that, that cottage was my prison. What was once something so beautiful and freeing had mutated into something _awful_. And I didn't think it was possible for it to get any worse. But of course... I was wrong."

More tears fell. At that point, I wasn't sure if they were hers or mine. Her despair weighed so heavily on me, so much so that as eager as I had been to hear her story a part of me now considered begging her to stop. I couldn't stand seeing her in so much pain. But I asked for this. It would be selfish of me to stop her now.

"The second letter came some time early in the summer. This time, the villagers had complained about our _antisocial behaviour._ Apparently, they weren't happy that we were hiding ourselves away, even though _they_ were the ones who wanted us to leave in the first place. I didn't know people could _act_ like that Adam. Where I came from, in my village, everyone was so kind and considerate. We were welcoming to strangers, we accepted and embraced one another. Maybe what happened to Papa was always going to happen no matter what we did or where we went, but I knew. I knew if we had stayed in our old village, they would have helped us. My family had lived there for years, and there was no way they would have treated us like we were a disease to be feared or a nuisance to be rid of. The second letter ended with a reminder that I had one last chance. And if _one_ more complaint was made they'd come and take him from me whether I consented to it or not.

"I didn't know what to do Adam. I felt like I was _drowning_. I was watching the man who raised me deteriorate into nothing and no matter how hard I tried, nothing I did was good enough. And it got so bad... that I started to think... that maybe... _maybe_... I'd be better off... without him."

She sobbed. I could only watch.

"I _hate_ myself for it, believe me, I do. But I couldn't help myself from thinking that maybe it would have been better if he had died in that explosion. Because at least then, I could have mourned him properly. Instead of spending my days locked away with a stranger that looked and sounded exactly like him, but wasn't my papa. And the more I thought about it, the more the thoughts turned into fantasies. I pictured myself, picking up a quill and writing to the asylum, telling them to come and get him. I pictured packing up a bag and leaving at night, just so I wouldn't have to listen to my own father call me a 'dirty little whore' ever again. He was the one who was sick, but I felt like _I_ was losing my mind. I just wanted it all to _stop_."

"Belle," I interrupted urgently, not liking at all where this strand of thought was going. She looked so sunk into herself, rocking in her own embrace I doubted she had even really heard me. How could I tell her it wasn't her fault? That she had done the best she could with the circumstances she was given and she had no reason to hate herself. I was tripping over my own tongue in my haste to bring her back to me. I was never good at giving comfort. What could I possibly say?

"I... Listen, Belle. I know you blame yourself, but... I'm sure your father wouldn't have blamed you. It sounds like you did the best you could and... even if a part of you resented your father-"

"I hated him, Adam."

The conviction of her words stunned me silent.

"I _hated_ him."

Silence.

"He took me from my home. _Dumped_ me in this strange place with these _awful_ people and he... _left_ me there! He _left_ me! With a stranger. Who didn't even remember my name." She cried as though the tears had been trapped for years, and clutched to her chest as though physically pained. I couldn't help the overwhelming pity I felt for her, but the second she saw my expression, she jumped from her seat.

"Don't!" She screamed at me, with so much ferocity and sadness I was nearly balled backwards. Shockingly, her father didn't so much as twitch.

"Don't pity me! How could I do that?! How could I think such things?! He was my father! The man who raised me! Who stayed with me even after years of ignoring him and pushing him away! He took care of _me_ when I was too weak to fend for myself, and now it was my turn, _I_ couldn't handle it? I resented him because it wasn't _my_ job to take care of him? Because he wasn't _my_ responsibility? How could I have been so _selfish_? To wish my own father dead? How could I?!" She screeched, tugging at her hair in desperation. She fell back on her chair and began sobbing violently into her knees. I felt so helpless, watching her. I wanted to get up and hold her, to comfort her and take her pain away, but something told me the best thing to do was to simply let her cry it out. Maybe it was the clever side, or maybe it was the cowardly side, but either way, I listened.

I sat there with my fists clenching the wood as she cried her pain and wept years of misery. Is this what she meant when she told me she deserved to be here? Did she consider her servitude penance for nearly giving up on her father? If so then... how could I convince her she was wrong? No one could have prepared themselves for the things she had gone through, and she had gone through them alone. It must have been torture for her to watch the only family she had left disintegrate whilst caring for the shell that was left behind. The similarities between this man and my grandmother even, made me look at the beauty with a whole new level of respect. I could barely stand to be in the same room with my grandmother, so great was my fear to stare into those deep, empty eyes. Belle had stayed with him. And it was clear how much she despised herself for even considering giving him away, but her guilt only exposed how truly loving and selfless she was. It would have been easy to give up on her father, but she didn't. She was brave and she stayed. Why couldn't she see that?

Her hysteric sobs cut me deep. Her sadness and her loss, it was singing from her soul in the most devastating of ways. I had never seen such anguish, and it pierced me so that I cowardly looked away. I instead chose to stare at the man who she had fought to protect. He sounded like a great father, and a part of me mourned the fact that I would never get to meet the man she described. But, now, I was only left wondering...

How had she ended up in this castle, with her father receiving what looked to be luxury treatment while she received whatever treatment Gaston believed she deserved. There was but one piece missing from this harrowing puzzle, and in order to get it, I had to let her cry.

Eventually, her convulsive sobs began to relax into silent weeping. I could see the heave of her chest as her small frame shook, and wanted more than anything to know what to say to make it better. But I highly doubted that any mere words could have healed the scars left on her soul.

How difficult it must be, to look into the eyes of a person that you loved and see only your reflection staring back at you.

It amazed me I had never considered her experiencing anything like this. She always seemed so cheerful and positive. How had I been so ignorant of her loss?

Finally, only the gentlest of whimpers could be heard from her. When she raised her head from her knees, her cheeks were so flushed with red blotches and tear stains it looked as though she had wept a lifetime of sadness in just a few minutes. I couldn't quite place the emotion in her eyes as she used the back of her hands to wipe away the evidence of her misery, but her frown remained as she whispered a simple, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologise," I insisted at once, with a conviction that surprised even me. "You've got nothing to be sorry for Belle. You have every right to cry. What you've been through... its enough to break even the strongest of men. But you never broke. You're still here, smiling and loving and standing by your father's side. I... can't tell you how much I respect you for that." I told her honestly.

She sniffled heavily, before she ladened me with a confusing stare and muttered, "So, you don't hate me?"

"Hate you?" I gasped in alarm, "Belle, why would you possibly think I could ever hate you?"

Her eyes held such overwhelming shame I almost begged her to look away. Why would I hate her? Because she experienced a moment of weakness like every other person? I may not have known just how deep those scars had run, but I would never judge her for it. When she hugged her legs tighter into her chest and tilted her head to the floor I thought I might not be getting an answer, when...

"You told me you hated your parents for what they did to your grandmother, keeping her locked away like a dirty little secret. I thought... you might not want to be friends any more... once you found out I did the exact same thing-"

"Belle, don't you dare!" Her head shot up at my sheer ferocity. Before I knew it I had pounced from my chair and was charging towards her. She quivered up at me fearfully when, without any forethought at all, did I drop to my knees before her. Her fear turned to astonishment, but I didn't let it distract me. I needed her to hear this.

"Belle, you are nothing like my parents. My mother... she hated her mother for forcing her to marry my father, which forced her sister's suicide. She blamed her for it, so naturally, when her mother started losing her ability to function on her own, she begrudgingly took her into our home but was determined to make her as miserable as possible. But... by then, it wasn't just about how much she hated the woman.

"Years of grief and a loveless marriage made my mother a bitter, selfish person. Hiding grandmother away from the public was as much out of vanity as it was out of spite, and my father went along with it only to avoid an argument. You... you are not like them. You didn't keep your father hidden because you were ashamed or... because it made _your_ life easier, you did it to keep him safe. And I hate the fact that you had to do it all alone. But you're not alone now. You have friends here, people who love you. You h... you have me. And no matter what you think or say, I will always hold you in the highest regard because... someone like you... doesn't deserve to be hated. Most especially not by yourself. Understand?" I told her like an order. And even though _I_ was the one on my knees, she submitted. She nodded frantically, with the most watery eyes and peppery cheeks on anyone I had ever seen. She stared deeply into my eyes, and even though the pair held such sadness, I could have sworn I caught the faintest barest hint of a smile.

"Thank you, Adam," She whispered, reaching down to squeeze my hands. "Thank you."

We stayed in the following silence for quite some time. I had made it back to my seat at some point, though I didn't remember when. I let her drift into her own mind while I dwelled on all these strange emotions boiling in my stomach.

I had almost let something slip just then, when I was telling her how much I respected her. I had felt something, something twisting in my stomach and boiling in my throat that I had no words or explanation for.

But that wasn't the only thing I was dwelling on.

Twice, today, I had ended up on my knees, and the only other person in the world I had ever knelt before was my father. I had been taught to do so before anyone of lesser rank would be a disgrace to me and my family name and yet... I was not dishonoured.

What an odd feeling it was.

I had lived by my father's philosophy for two whole decades. Let it dictate every thought and action I made. But something strange was happening to me, something that had started from the moment I laid eyes on this broken little beauty.

I was making my own choices. Fixing my own mistakes. Thinking my own thoughts, and _listening_ to them.

Who would have thought, royalty kneeling before servants? But I felt no shame. In actual fact, after everything that had happened today, I believed I felt a sense of pride.

 _You always told me I had to be my own man someday father. Well, look at me now! Are you proud of your son? If you aren't, I don't care! Do you hear me?! I! Don't! Care!_

 _You may have raised me to be a king, but you never taught me how to be a man, but I'm learning without you now. And no matter what you or mother ever said, Alex was the one who was right. Being a man is far more important than being a king. I just wish you would have taught me how to be both. Perhaps then,_ I might _have been proud of_ you _._

I looked at the father sleeping peacefully on the bed, arms and legs strapped down and hands bound in tight concealing gloves.

 _You did a wonderful job of raising your daughter sir. You're the kind of father anyone would be proud to name as their own. And even though you can't tell her, I know you're proud of her as well. But I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to make sure she never feels so alone again. You have my word as the future king of_ _Fairalia_ _. You have my word._

"Belle?" I called gently, not wanting to startle the calm she had sunk in to. She tipped her head sideways, still with a dream locked longingly in her eyes. They asked me a soundless question.

"How did you end up here?"

And just like that, the bubble burst. The soothing silence was shattered as she stared at me resignedly.

"You really wanted to know the whole story didn't you?"

I could only blink.

She sighed.

"It was just like every other night, I guess. I had cooked dinner and was trying to persuade him to eat it. He was acting like a toddler, but that was nothing new. Then I started to hear... something, from outside. We were so far away from most of the village in our little cottage it was rare I would hear anything at all, especially that late at night, but the noises only got louder. It sounded like... yelling. Like a lot of voices yelling all at once. I went over to the window to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on but... what I saw...

"It looked like almost every member of the village was coming over the bridge towards us, and you'll never guess what they were holding. Pitchforks... and torches. _Pitchforks_ and torches _._ Like we were _monsters_ they were _hunting_. I panicked. I had no idea what they were planning, but it seemed as though their hatred for us had finally reached its peak. I blew out all the candles I had burning around the house, but the closer they got, the louder the shouting became, and the more agitated Papa was getting. I tried to calm him down, but I was terrified as well and I knew that on some level he could sense something was wrong. He started screaming, and I was begging him to stop, but the villagers were yelling for us to come out, shrieking that we were unholy demons who deserved to burn for our sins. Papa was losing it, and I couldn't think of anything to do. I thought... the only way to stop this madness was just to _talk_ to them. _Make_ them understand. We weren't bad people and I so desperately wanted to make them see that.

"I dragged Papa into his room and locked him in, and then I went to the outside to face them. They were calling me all kinds of names, brandishing their torches like I was a murderer being burned at the stake. I didn't understand. How anyone could hate us so badly when our only crime was to be _different_ from them. I was begging them just to listen to me, but they were all shouting over each other, getting closer and closer to the house. All it would take was just one person to shove their way past me, and they'd get to Papa no matter how much I fought against them. My heart was pounding in my throat, all I saw was fire. I couldn't breathe, I was losing control, and all I wanted was for someone to make it _stop!_

"And that's when _he_ came."

"Gaston," I confirmed, quietly.

"Rode right through the crowd on his horse like a knight in shining armour. Distantly, I recognised him, but I still didn't know who he was, and I was astonished when they listened to him yelling at them all to go home.

"I just stood there as all the villagers left without any kind of protest. Who was this man? Where had he come from? I genuinely believed that my prayers had been answered. And I guess they were, in a way," She released a bitter little laugh, "All I asked for was some help. Well, I guess I got it, just not in the way I was expecting."

 _What did you do Gaston?_

"I was staring at him the whole time, but he didn't say a word, he just walked right past me. Went into my home, sat down in a dining chair, put his feet up on the table and... made me an offer.

"He told me he had read my letters, and that he _sympathised_ with my _plight_. So much so he was willing to show mercy for my previous acts of _treason_. I was... _so_ confused... but he didn't give me a chance to ask questions. He told me he knew about my father's condition, and that Maison De Fous had been in contact with me and... that it was only a matter of time before they came to take him away. But he had a solution, the _only_ solution, the _only_ way Papa and I could stay together.

"He said that he would move me and my father into the castle, free of charge. My father would receive the best medical attention possible. He wouldn't be abused. He wouldn't be mistreated. And he wouldn't be _my_ responsibility any more. It was like he was reading my mind, Adam, telling me all these things that I wanted to hear. Really, it was like a dream, for someone else to come and take care of him, someone who knew _how_ to, someone who _wasn't_ me. He told me he was willing to do all of this for me, and the only thing... the only thing he w-wanted in return was... _was_..."

"You."

I was absolutely horrified.

"I wanted to tell him no, Adam. Tell him to get out and slam the door in his face. But... I _couldn't._ "

 _Please stay strong for me Belle. I can't stand the sight of your tears._

"I was so _scared_ , of the mental hospital and what the villagers had just done, but the thing that scared me the most, was the idea of him walking out that door, and no one else ever walking through it again. I was so lonely and alone, the cottage was driving me insane, and the idea of walking away... leaving it all behind and never looking back... it was _intoxicating_. What he was asking, in exchange, it was... I can't even describe what was going through my mind. All I really thought about was Papa. But I won't lie to you and tell you it was all selfless. I was ready for him to be someone else's responsibility. For months, all I had wanted was for someone to come along and take control, so _I_ wouldn't have to. Even if the price was high, I was exhausted and I was beaten and I was ready for this hell to be over. So I agreed. And we left for the castle that same night."

Her hurt was on display for everyone to see, recalling a memory so obviously terrifying it wasn't worthy of words. And the fact that my friend had had a hand in that... the fact that he had taken advantage of her when she was so obviously scared and vulnerable... I wanted to kill him.

"Keep going, " I told her, needing to know every detail. She bit her lip, looking at me cautiously from beneath sodden rich lashes.

"Really Adam? Are you sure you want to hear-"

"Tell me!" I ordered. She fidgeted, going pale. The only reason I could fathom for her reluctance was that she thought she'd be offending me. She knew me first and foremost as Gaston's friend, after all. She had no idea how close my loyalties were to shifting.

"Alright, well... The first week... was the hardest, I'm not going to lie. It felt like I had traded one prison for another. I wasn't allowed to leave his room, even if he wasn't there, and when he _did_ come... well... he made absolutely certain that I lived up to _my_ end of the deal. It was only after the third week that I couldn't take the wait any longer. I _demanded_ to see my father. I _had_ to know that what I had done... what I had given up... was worth it. So he took me to the hospice, brought me to this room, opened the door and... here he was. And he... looked... _better_."

Her smile was full of agony.

"He was shaved, was washed, in fresh clothes, even looked like he had been eating. All the things I couldn't get him to do. He was laying on the bed, the scars on his hands freshly wrapped and bandaged. I called out his name, almost in shock and... and he looked up at me and... he smiled. _Smiled_. Like he knew... _who I was._ " She whispered, filled with wonder. Her eyes shining with the memory as her gaze hunted tenderly over her father's sleeping face. Such happiness and heartache all mixed in one. It was truly a sight to behold.

"After that, I knew it was all worth it. That no matter what Gaston asked of me, as long as Papa was here, safe and getting the treatment he needed, I'd do whatever he wanted. And after a while, things started getting easier. I made friends with Lumière, Fifi and Mrs Potts. I met Fife and little Chip and _oh_ I can't tell you how happy I was to have people I could _talk_ to again. To have _friends_ again. And... even Gaston... got a little easier to be around, day by day. At first, I was pretty damn terrified of him, especially after I learned who he was, but as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, I started learning more about him. What made him tick. What made him happy. And I try to keep him happy, because, even though what he did may not have been right, he did for me what no one else would. He _helped_ me. And I'll always be grateful for that. Even when he makes me furious or makes me feel helpless, he was there for me when no one else was."

"Belle," I interrupted, eyeing her cautiously like I expected her to burst into laughter and tell me she was joking. "If you're covering for him because you think this is what I want to hear-"

"I'm not lying Adam. I _know_ how it looks, trust me. But he's not _always_... so bad. He can be... gentle. Sometimes. Sometimes he can even be compassionate. He just wants control. He _needs_ to know that _he's_ the one who has the power, and I denied him of that once. I rejected him, in possibly the most brutal way I can think of, and so I guess... when the opportunity arose to take back the power I stripped from him, he took it. Now he has complete control over me; what I do, where I go, who I talk to, even when I see him," Her eyes strayed to her father peacefully slumbering, I immediately tensed at the accusation.

"But," She persisted, "like I said, he has his moments. His father raised him to look down his nose at everyone, and while I'm not going to lie and say he treats me like an equal, he's... done things. Things for me... and others... that proves he's not entirely... heartless."

"What things has he done?" I was encroaching on dangerous territory now. Even though it sounded like she was trying to defend him, her account of just _how_ Gaston had taken possession of her was completely demoralising. For months I'd wondered, agonised over all the possibilities, and it seemed like she was giving me the worst explanation possible. She was describing a completely different person to the one I had left all those years ago. A person I was beginning to realise I didn't like very much. But was it wrong to cling to some form of hope that maybe Belle was right? That perhaps there was a chance that my old friend was salvageable. Just like I was beginning to think _I_ was.

She shifted uncomfortably, gnawing on the broken skin of her lip. Her eyes were averted, whether through embarrassment or fear, I wasn't certain, but she attempted to dismiss me with a simple shrug of her shoulder.

"He's just... The way he behaves sometimes... proves he's not a complete monster."

"Belle," I warned. I had been patient up until now, let her tell her story at her own pace, but not about this. Not about _him_. Her eyes widened in alarm at my biting tone; she must have sensed I wasn't about to let this go.

"Fine, I'll tell you, but you _have_ to keep it a secret. If it ever got back to Gaston that I told someone..."

"I understand," I interrupted impatiently, making hand gestures to hurry her along. She scowled but said nothing. Tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, she asked, "Gaston told me you spent practically half your childhood in this castle. Is that true?"

My brow furrowed as I nodded slowly in confirmation; where was she going with this?

"Then, I take it, you know who Lord Edward is?"

I froze. Edward. I had completely forgotten about him since my strange conversation with the small dark-haired maid. I had thought to follow it up and ask someone else for a little more information, but it had completely slipped my mind in light of the chaos that had recently befallen me. What did Gaston's supposed 'good deeds' have to do with _him_?

"Did you happen to wonder why he isn't here any more?"

I eyed her suspiciously, "I was told he and his mother were banished after his father was found guilty of treason."

She squirmed, "Well, yes, that is the official story."

"And unofficially?" What secrets was this little beauty hiding?

"It was only a few weeks after I got here. Even after I had seen my father, it was still difficult. Gaston... he wasn't exactly used to only having 'one woman', as he put it, and he wasn't used to containing his strength so he could ensure _that_ woman actually lasted longer than a night or two before moving on to the next one. I was... still pretty shy and sunk into myself back then, and didn't really know how to talk to people after so many months of being alone. But that didn't mean I didn't notice the looks I got. Apparently, all the servants knew the real reason I was here even before I befriended a few of them. I don't know if the staff in the hospice liked to gossip or what but... they all knew. And they all looked like they felt sorry for me. What I didn't notice was that I wasn't the only one that got looks of pity. I wasn't the only one that showed up every other day with a fresh bruise. And I wasn't the only one that did more limping then walking most of the time. I didn't notice. But I did notice when he had her up against that wall."

"Who?" I asked, so intrigued I was literally clutching at the edge of my seat. The wood let out a squeak of protest, but my eyes never left Belle's. She sighed and shook her head, obviously reliving a deeply unpleasant memory.

"It was Fifi. The maid you met in the barn a few weeks ago. The one who was too frightened to talk to you. Well, there was a reason for that. Everyone told me she was the happiest person before. Bright and cheerful and sunny. But that all changed once Lord Edward returned from his studies. Apparently, he took an interest in her right away, and, well, when you were part of a family as powerful as his was, you apparently didn't take no for an answer.

"I caught him forcing her against the wall. The top of her dress was ripped open, his hand was up her skirt, she was crying and pleading for him to stop, but he only laughed and told her he knew how much she loved it. I was disgusted. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and it was so out in the open. He didn't care about getting caught, because his family was so wealthy and influential he thought he was untouchable. She saw me. And her eyes, they were so scared. But in that moment it wasn't just for herself, but for me as well. When Edward noticed, he turned around and looked at me and... well... like I said, he didn't care about getting caught. He walked right up to me and told me that if I valued my job in this castle I wouldn't speak a word of this to anyone. Then he walked away with his head held high like he was proud of himself. His attitude, it sickened me, but it was only going to get worse. When I asked Fifi if she was alright, she begged me not to say anything. That the rich and powerful in this castle held our fate in the palms of their hands, and heaven forbid if we ever did anything to displease them."

The face she pulled surely exposed the disdain she had for the world she had been thrust into. As a prince, I knew this world, I lived in it every day. But Belle, a little farm girl from a distant corner in Blé? What would _she_ have known about the hierarchy and the struggle for power? It just astounded me that she still managed to maintain some level of innocence after everything she'd lived and seen.

"I thought... I thought I could help her. I thought, that by helping her, I could redeem myself, and somehow make amends for all the things I had done. So, I decided... that the best thing to do... would be to visit his father."

 _What?! Was she crazy?!_ The sour purse of her lips told me she knew exactly what I was thinking, and she did not appreciate it.

"I know it was stupid, but back then, I was new to this world. New to the corruption and foul play, where you could get away with anything as long as your father was rich and powerful enough. All I thought back then was... of _course_ , his father would want to know what his son was doing. And if he really served under the king like Fifi had said, then, of _course_ , he would be honourable enough to put an end to it all. _Idiot_." She scolded herself. I myself found her naivety rather endearing, but knew to say so wouldn't sound anything more than patronising. It was clear she had learned from her mistake, but I knew how men like Lord Sebastian thought. There was no way he would have appreciated a servant telling him how his son should be behaving. Just like I always thought, little Edward truly was a squirmy little rat. No wonder Fifi had been so reluctant to talk about him when I'd asked.

"I found out where his father's room was, and pretended to be a messenger for Gaston when he asked me what I wanted. As soon as he let me in I told him the real reason I was there. To say he was displeased would be... a massive bloody understatement. But I was convinced I could get him to listen to me. I told him what I saw, and the fact that I thought this wasn't the first time. I expected him to be horrified. His son had been doing something foul, and even after all I had seen in that village, I just couldn't imagine how anyone could _not_ care about something like that. I begged him to talk to his son, and get him to stop before he took things to far. And do you know what he said? After a full ten minutes of listening to me plead for Fifi's freedom, do you know what he said? He told me I should learn to _mind_ my own _business_. That whatever was transpiring between _his_ son and this _kitchen wench_ was not my concern and I should learn not to shove my nose where it didn't belong, least I ended up in a worse predicament then my little _friend_." Her disgust was palpable. Fucking Sebastian.

"He didn't know who you were?" It was more a statement then a question, as I wondered why Sebastian would have threatened her if she was under Gaston's protection by that time. Yes, he may have been far higher on the food chain, but it was quite clear how possessive over her Gaston was. I didn't think he would have appreciated her being threatened, no matter how much clout the person had.

"Adam, back then _I_ didn't even know who I was supposed to be. I belonged to Gaston, he made that quite clear, but I had been locked in his room for the first few weeks and even if the servants knew _why_ , it's not like any of us thought I was anyone important. I was just like them, the only difference was I worked directly for the prince. But Lord Sebastian's attitude... still shocked me. And his complete dismissal of Fifi, it drove me crazy. I told him... I told him if he didn't stop his son... if he didn't tell him to stay away and leave Fifi alone... that I would go directly to the king.

"And the next thing I heard was the slap."

"He struck you?" I demanded, completely outraged. If Sebastian wasn't already locked away for treason, he'd have _me_ to answer to!

"First time I'd ever been hit in all my life. And it hurt... hurt like hell." She confessed as she laid her fingers to her soft left cheek. That asshole. "He tossed me out before letting me know that if I ran my mouth to anyone about him or his son ever again, I'd get far worse then a slap. I cried all the way back to Gaston's room. It wasn't just the pain, but the sense of failure. _Once again_ , I had tried to protect someone, and _once again_ , I had _failed_.

"Well, Gaston noticed the red mark right away, and of course demanded to know where it came from. I told him everything. About Edward, and what Fifi was going through, and my visit to his father, and do you know what, Adam? He didn't care.

"He didn't _care_ what Edward was doing to Fifi, he didn't _care_ that she didn't want it, he didn't care how much _pain_ he was _causing_ her! But he _did_ care... about Lord Sebastian slapping me." Her face, holding so much agony, suddenly slid into a stoic mask, I ground my teeth together. I did not like that look _at all_.

"He told me he'd _take care_ of it. Now I didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but by then I was too tired and too miserable to dwell on it. I let it go. Then, about eight days later, all the occupants of the castle were called into the throne room. I was standing next to servants who were saying how this had never happened before. That in all their years of working there, the king had _never_ called a full house to open court. And I mean _everyone_ , even the groundskeepers and stable hands, and everyone looked confused. Then the king came in, followed by his guards and Gaston. Everyone was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. Then he explained why we were there.

"He said that he had been betrayed. That someone very close to him had been found guilty of stealing gold from the royal treasury. Gold and jewels exclusively owned by himself, and only accessed by himself, were missing. Apparently, the thefts had been happening over the course of several months, and now he had finally caught the culprit. No one dared make a sound. He was _so_ angry. I had never seen a man so furious in _all_ my life. No one knew what was going to happen, but I think when the king called the guard to bring in the traitor, and Lord Sebastian was dragged in on his knees, everyone was petrified.

"Lord Sebastian was pleading with the king, swearing he was innocent, but the king merely spoke over him. Telling him most of the gold had been uncovered under hidden floorboards in his room, and a _trusted_ source had told him he had been spotted sneaking around at night, going places he had no business to go. He swore he was being framed, he was begging the king to listen, but all Silas did was look at him with disgust and sentence him to life imprisonment. He even told Sebastian the only reason he had escaped the death penalty was because of the respect he still held for the man's deceased father. He was still screaming as he was being dragged away, and then the king turned his attention to his wife and son. His wife was crying, and Edward... well... he looked like he had seen a ghost. The king ordered them out of his kingdom. They had an hour to pack what they could grab, and run. Because if either of them were ever spotted in his castle again, they would suffer the same fate as the formally prestigious lord being dragged across the floor in manacles. I was watching Edward the whole time, but then I felt something. Like someone was watching _me_. And I looked in his direction, and he was staring right at me. _Gaston_."

"You think he had something to do with it?" I gasped. Too much of a coincidence. To perfect. What were the chances; Lord Sebastian being caught for treason mere days after laying his hand to precious Belle? What were the chances of Edward being banished after Belle had asked Gaston for help? What were the chances?

"I don't know!" She cried, tugging at her hair, "I don't know. I don't know if Gaston was the one stealing the gold and he just framed Lord Sebastian after what he did, or if _Sebastian_ and his family had been stealing all along and Gaston only found out when he went looking for something to use against him. I _don't_ know! All I _do_ know, is that he got Edward out of the castle. And maybe it wasn't because he cared about Fifi or out of some sense of compassion, but he still _did_ it. I felt horrible afterwards, thinking that maybe he had gone too far, and that maybe Lord Sebastian didn't deserve to be imprisoned for something I suspected he didn't even do, but Fifi was safe and that was all I could bring myself to care about. Don't you see Adam? Even if his motives are spurious, he _can_ do good things. He may not have cared about Fifi, but he saved her, for _me_.

"And he proved something else to me that day, something I swore to myself I'd never forget."

"Which was?"

"That even though _he's_ the one in control, _I'm_ not completely powerless. I'm not stupid Adam, I _know_ getting Sebastian imprisoned and Edward exiled couldn't have been easy, even for him, but he did it, and all for a slap. Maybe it was only to ensure I'd fall a little further into his debt, but something about the way he looked at me that day made me think that maybe... this was his way of letting me know... just how much I meant to him."

Meant to him? How much she... _meant_ to him? No. No way. She couldn't possibly...

"Belle, are you honestly telling me that you _forgive_ him for everything he's done to you? I mean, I know you're a good person, and you're loyal, but... he took advantage of you! He got to you when you were most vulnerable and forced you to accept his offer before you had time to think of any other option. Do you really think that was a coincidence-"

"Don't Adam!" She yelled at me, suddenly just as furious as I was. I thought she was smarter then this, but it appeared Gaston had her wrapped so tightly around his fist she couldn't see what was staring her right in the face. Did she really think that she had any power here? Her glower was only further proof of just how much control he really had.

"You can't say that! You can't talk about me like I'm some stupid helpless girl who he manipulated into his bed. I'm not that clueless, and I'm nowhere _near_ that innocent! I use him just as much as he uses me! I used him to get Edward out of the castle! I used him so Chip could keep his dog! I use him for my father's protection and I use him for mine! He's treated me badly, I know that, but its nothing I didn't consent to! And that day, either intentionally or accidentally, he _gave_ me some of my power back. Some control I so desperately needed. He may dictate many parts of my life, but over time, I've come to realise that I've got some kind of hold on him as well. He treats me differently than any other person. I can do things and say things that most servants would be beaten for, but as long as he knows that I know that he's the one in charge, I get just as much out of _him_ , as he does out of _me_!"

She sounded so convinced. _So_ sure what she was saying was true. She even sounded desperate to convince me to believe her and I thought I understood _why_. She didn't _want_ to be helpless. Feeling helpless would only lead her back to how depressed and trapped she was when she was living in that village. But, was her desperation to believe that she had some control over her life clouding her perception of Gaston? Maybe she was right, maybe he really _did_ care for her, to some extent, after all, the things he'd done, they were no small feat. But then... _why_? Why did he find it acceptable to treat her the way he did? Sure, he wouldn't have appreciated being rejected, especially _not_ in the way she had done it but... could he _really_ still be holding a grudge after all this time? She didn't even know the more brutal things I knew he'd done to her, and she was still defending him. Perhaps... perhaps... after _everything_ they did together, and all the time they spent... perhaps she didn't hate him the way I'd always thought.

Maybe... she...

No.

No. No. No!

I didn't care! I didn't care if Gaston had manipulated her into believing he was a good man at heart!

I didn't care if she was so desperate to believe it that she had let herself be blinded!

 _I_ wasn't blind! Gaston never did _anything_ that didn't benefit _him_ in the end! What were the chances? What were the chances of him showing up the exact moment Belle needed to be saved? What were the chances of Gaston being the _only_ one who had read Belle's letters? What were the chances of anyone in that uneducated inept little village knowing how to contact Maison De Fous? All these things Belle had chosen to ignore, but something she had made very _very_ clear.

Gaston had become something I no longer recognised. I had made my mistakes, I knew I had, but I was trying to make amends for them. Gaston... he _wasn't_ sorry. He had beaten her and abused her, manipulated her guilt over her father's condition. She blamed herself, that much was clear, and he was using her love for him against her, forcing her to serve him for no other reason than to see her father healthy. It shouldn't have been happening. She shouldn't have to pay that kind of price to protect someone she loved, no one should. But Gaston had made her feel like _he_ was her only option. She may not choose to see it because she wanted to believe the best, but I saw it. I saw it _all_.

Gaston and I... we were going to have a little _chat_.


	20. Winter Solstice Ball: Part One

**Winter Solstice Ball**

 **Part One**

 **.**

I threaded my tie through my collar and pulled it to my neck. Adjusting its size and tucking the straggling fabric through the holes of my blouse, I took a step back and admired my reflection.

Forte really _had_ outdone himself this time.

The Winter Solstice Ball was finally here, and thanks to the ancient tailor's profound skill, I was looking my absolute best in a dark blue suit with golden accents, a golden waistcoat, black blouse and shiny dark leather shoes. I looked the epitome of royalty, but I did not look happy. Not at all.

It had been three days since Belle and I last spoke, three days where I had been dwelling on everything she'd told me that evening. She'd been off helping the staff prepare the final finishing touches for the ball, and it was my understanding she'd also be acting as a server, just like she had at _my_ welcoming gala. I had missed her, these last few days of her absence, but I did think it was probably best that I had a little space to reflect on things. It gave me enough time to think through everything I now knew.

I felt terrible for her, and her father. No one deserved the kind of fate he'd endured, not least a man with that much intellect and imagination to offer the world. And for her to blame herself for it all... it was no wonder she allowed herself to be treated so poorly.

It had truly baffled me. How this girl; this strong, beautiful girl, could be so fierce and powerful when she faced off against me, yet so timid and meek when it came to _him_. Now I knew, at least, the majority of the reasons. Most would only assume she behaved the way she did to keep her father safe, but I saw more than that. She blamed herself, had been carrying self-loathing with her all this time and Gaston had only been exploiting it. Did she truly feel like she deserved to be treated the way she was because of what happened with her father? Because she hadn't intervened when he began showing signs of degression, or because she had wished him dead when his condition got too much for her?

Was that why she submitted to him so easily? Or was it that she felt he _deserved_ her obedience for bringing her and her father here? There was no one to help her, and he had swooped in at the right time and taken all the responsibility off her shoulders, and now she felt she _owed_ him her compliance? Her defence of his actions still made me sick.

There was absolutely no defence.

Gaston.

I was fully prepared to take up arms with him that night. After Belle and I both went our separate ways, I had marched towards his suite, determined to pound on his door until he opened up, and then proceed to pound all over his obnoxious face. But the closer I got to his bedchamber the more logic began to voice over rage.

What would happen to Belle if Gaston knew she'd told me everything? Would he hurt her? Cast her and her father out on the streets? Would she be angry with me for interfering in her private matters, after I promised to keep everything she'd told me a secret? I didn't know. I didn't know what consequences either of us would face if I did what I really wanted to do in retaliation for everything I'd heard. Though I was well capable enough to protect her, I couldn't be around all the time, and this was Gaston's castle. He could get away with _anything_.

So I hadn't done anything. I had kept myself away these last few days, hoping my anger towards him would diminish long enough to think of a rational plan, but now the ball was upon me, and there was no more time to hide.

Belle's predicament and Gaston's withering friendship would have to wait. Tonight I would be fully on display, and I was not going to enjoy a single second of it.

 **AAA**

The ballroom was loud. And crowded. Nobility and royalty swept through the entry doors and were welcomed into the massive ballroom that was so infected with Christmas spirit I literally wanted to puke. The giant golden hall was covered floor to ceiling in Solstice decorations. Every pillar wrapped in tinsel, every bannister wrapped in holly. The massive sixty-foot tree stood in the corner covered in shiny baubles and decorations, gifts of all shapes and sizes spilling from its base and cornered off with thick red rope. The large dining room table had been moved and laid out with every kind of food one could imagine. From sweetmeats to three-course meals it was a feast fit for every King. And yet I could not be satisfied. The garlands and the crystals, the ribbons and the wreaths, the holly and the presents and the giant fucking tree. I hated it _all_. Yet, here I was, forcing myself to be sociable and greeting everyone with fake Christmas cheer, all the while stealing glances at the clock every thirty seconds, wondering when this bore of an evening would finally be over.

Alex wasn't even here to keep me company, as he had written to Silas only a few days ago stating his apologies, admitting illness as an excuse for his non-attendance. If only I had thought to try that, I wouldn't be standing here.

"Adam!" _Oh, here we go. "_ Merry Christmas, young man."

I forced a smile.

I knew both our attitudes were false. Silas was far too serious a man to enjoy such a futile holiday with any kind of enthusiasm. The only reason he hosted these parties every year was because he was obligated to, otherwise I had a feeling his home would be just as silent at Christmas as mine had always been.

He was dressed fitting his station tonight. In colourful bronze and red robes and a golden woven thick fur cloak. He was even wearing his crown, the jewel-encrusted monument sitting firmly atop his head, gleaming against the thousands of glowing candles littering every surface of the magnificent ballroom. His ageing face did nothing to hide the power and control the man had, it only helped to enhance it, making even someone of my station feel like I could never measure up.

"Merry Christmas, Your Majesty."

I tried my hardest to hide my reluctance, but the truth was, I despised this holiday. It always made me think about my parents. Three years spent overseas in a near constant drunken haze had kept the memories at bay, but standing here, in this room, amongst all the decorations and smiles and festive cheer, I just couldn't help but be completely sucked in.

 _The sounds of laughter and enjoyment were like knives on my skin. I watched the other children play in the gardens from my bedroom window like an envious snake. I_ hated _that they all got to laugh and enjoy themselves while_ I _was kept locked away in my room. Under_ mother's _command, of course. She ordered the house staff and castle guards to keep me imprisoned in my private wing every year at this time, just so I could not go and play with all the worker's children who were back from school for the holidays._

 _I hated her! I hated them! I hated_ everyone!

 _Turning away from the frosted window, I angrily kicked one of the freshly wrapped parcels cluttering my huge room. I had received at least three hundred gifts from not only my 'parents' but from people all over the world, wishing to send their respects to the 'royal family.' I hadn't bothered unwrapping any of them. I knew none of those people actually_ cared _about me and had only sent me gifts to suck up to my father._

 _I didn't_ want _their pity. All I wanted was just one Christmas where I wasn't all alone._

 _A sudden bang on my window made me jump a foot in the air, and I spun to see a large ball of snow dripping slowly down the outside of the glass._

 _Urg, those stupid kids! Didn't they have any respect for their future king?! I stormed to the window with every intention of shoving it open and screaming at them, but the sight of them all merrily laughing and chasing each other made me freeze. They all looked so happy_ _down there. Why couldn't I join in? It's not like it would_ kill _mother to let me have some fun, just_ once _! She always fed me some excuse about royalty not mingling with 'lower class', but look! The counsellors' children were all running and playing with children of the house staff, and_ they _didn't seem to care! So what if they were beneath me? Why couldn't I have any friends?_

 _Feeling something wet touch my cold cheek, I realised I was crying._ No! No! Men don't cry! _King's_ don't cry! Father would scream if he saw! _I was just about to wipe it away when I caught one of the servant's children looking right at my window from the gardens below. He could see me._

 _Flinching, I stumbled back, resting my head against the cool stone wall I let out a sob. I tried to stop it, really I did but... I was just so lonely. I hadn't spoken to anyone but my tutor since the beginning of December, and no one else was_ allowed _to talk to me. That servant's child... why did_ he _get to be so happy? His family were dirt poor, living in_ my _kingdom under_ my _parent's charity, working themselves to the bone day and night just so they had someplace to sleep and minimal food to eat. And that would soon be_ his _life too. He'd likely never leave here, and spend the rest of his days slaving away under my reign while_ I _ruled over the entire kingdom. The boy probably hadn't even gotten_ one _present this year, while I sat in a room with literal piles of them!_

 _And yet... that smile..._

 _If being royalty meant that you weren't even as happy as a servant... what was even the point?_

 _A sudden sharp knock on my bedroom door had me hastily wiping away all my signs of weakness._

" _Go away!" I yelled harshly, knowing it was probably the maid coming to bring me lunch and she would just leave the tray outside if I didn't let her in. I expected to hear retreating footsteps, instead what I heard was my door squeaking open._

" _I thought I told you to-"_

" _Go away, yeah, I heard. A little rude, don't you think? Especially since I came_ all this way _just to see_ you _." The familiar, obnoxious voice had me spinning to face the black-haired, thick-jawed, grinning figure of-_

" _Gaston!" I called out in shock._ What... what was he doing here?

" _The one and only. Now hurry the fuck up buttercup! It's snowing out there and I want to kick your ass in a snow fight! Everyone else is too scared to hit me." He laughed loudly, and I couldn't contain the smile that spread from ear to ear. My only friend! He was here!_

 _We pounded down the staircase as fast as we could towards the entrance doors. I didn't know how Gaston got rid of the men guarding my wing, or what he was even doing here at all, but I didn't care. He was_ here _. I_ actually _had a friend with me! At Christmas! Could this get any better?!_

" _Adam! What are you doing?!" A shrill voice screeched just as we were close to freedom. Fuck, I spoke too soon._

 _Skidding to a halt, I turned to face the red, fuming face of my mother. She stormed right towards me, towering over me, looking so furious I actually shivered in fear. She grabbed hold of my arm, yanking me away from the large wooden door and began dragging me back towards the staircase._ No! I wouldn't go back!

" _Let me go!" I screamed at her, struggling in her hold. She only gripped me tighter, her sharp nails biting into the flesh of my arm hard enough to draw blood._

 _She glowered down in outrage._

" _How dare you leave your room without my permission! I've half a mind to take all those presents back and leave you sitting up there without any food or water! You ungrateful little boy! I'll be telling your father about this! Now come, stop fighting me!"_

" _Let me go you cow!" I screamed, mortified she was treating me this way_ in front _of Gaston. He never had a mother, so he didn't have a clue how much trouble they could be. I was embarrassed beyond belief she was doing this to me._

 _She released me immediately, rearing back in shock. I wasn't surprised. I'd_ never _called her a cow before, I'd only ever thought it. But as I rubbed the bruises on my arm caused by her harsh grip, I knew I wasn't sorry. I only glared through angry tears as her refined face twisted into an ugly snarl. She raised her hand._

" _Why you little-!"_

" _Martha!" A new voice snapped from behind all three of us, and we all spun to face the intimidating sight of my father and the king of Ingeniere. Gaston's dad stood an inch taller than my own and looked just as intimidating. I immediately bowed my head in respect. They did not look pleased._

" _What are you doing?" My father asked, and I raised my head nervously to answer only to find his gaze not directed at me. He was looking at mother; who, after a quick peek behind me, I realised was staring startled at the men's sudden appearance. She lowered her arm._

" _I was just taking the boy back to his room. He was fighting me! I was only going to show him some discipline." She explained petulantly, as though_ she _were the child here. Thinking this might be a great way to get her in even more trouble, I purposefully rubbed the throbbing marks on my arm, trying to draw attention without seeming obvious. It worked. My father's eyes narrowed on the fast-blooming bruises before switching his dark glare back to mother. That glare made me happy, thinking that he_ did _actually care about my well-being. I was waiting for him to start yelling at her, but he said nothing. Merely stared her down with a steely gaze that let me know he wasn't going to do anything. I deflated. I guessed he cared more about her then he did me._

 _Before any of us could say another word, Gaston's father - Silas, I think?- Stepped in._

" _Dear Martha. I apologise for disturbing whatever kind of tradition you may have for the holidays-" I barely contained my snort._ Tradition. Yeah right. _"But I had some urgent business that needed attending and Gaston practically begged to accompany me so he could spend some time with your son. Surely it wouldn't be to much hassle to allow them to play together for a few hours." He said as though he were indulging a toddler. I recognised his tone because that's how so many people usually spoke to me._

 _My eyes widened at his words though, and I peeked at Gaston who only winked at me. It filled me with great happiness to know Gaston had asked his father to come_ all this way _just to see me. He really_ was a _true friend._

 _I heard my mother huff. Literally huff, like she was being burdened by the fact that I might actually have some fun today. But seeing Silas's eyes narrow seemed to remind her of exactly_ who _it was she was speaking to._

" _Fine." She gritted in defeat, before turning on her high heel and stomping back up the staircase. What a bitch._

" _Alright now, run along you to. Go outside and try to stay out of trouble." Father sighed. He didn't need to tell us twice._

 _The cold air hit me with such force I was nearly bowled over. Even though it bit at my bare arms and fingers, it felt so good to finally be outside, with my best friend._

" _Oof." Was the sound that came from my mouth as a freezing snowball hit me square in the face. I glared through the ice dripping down my hair as Gaston cackled uncontrollably. Oh, he was_ so _going to get it._

 _We played and chased each other around all day. Neither admitting defeat in our battle to rule the frozen land of Fairalia. By the time the sun was setting, we were both drenched and freezing, but I had never been so happy in all my life. I forgot all about my parents in the hours we'd spent together, and just allowed myself to act like a normal ten-year-old boy. I'd known Gaston for years but I'd never gotten to spend Christmas with him, and now I guess I understood why everyone always went on and on about how joyous a day it was meant to be. A time for giving and receiving._

 _Yet despite everything I'd been given, the thing that made me happiest was just being able to play with my best friend._

 _I really couldn't imagine being happy without him._

 _This was the best Christmas ever._

And it was true. Back then, I couldn't imagine my life where Gaston wasn't right there by my side, as my best friend. But, now...

It was a bittersweet memory, because as much as I would have liked for things to have remained the same between us, so much had changed. My years away had me returning to a version of my friend I knew next to nothing about and now, I felt like I could barely recognise him. As angry as I was with everything he'd done, it also made me sad, because we had been so close for so long, and now I was pulling away. It wasn't easy, far from it. Every time I saw him I was filled with conflict. Part of me wanted to release my anger and confront him for everything he'd been doing in my absence, and the other part just wanted my best friend back. To laugh and joke with the only other person who'd ever understood me.

But I couldn't. I felt like I couldn't do anything. I was no saint, I knew that, but despite every horrible thing I had ever done, I had never, _ever_ laid my hand to an innocent.

The depression was beginning to eat at me, and I was just about ready to throw the towel in and run back upstairs, when an unpleasantly familiar voice rasped, "Your Majesty, I'm so glad I found you! The orchestra would like to know if you are ready to introduce the first dance of the night."

Oh lord, help me.

Both the king and I turned to face the owner of that annoying husky voice.

"Of course Angelique, all the guests have arrived. Tell them they may begin." Silas replied in a bored tone. I was praying the woman would take the hint and go away, but of course...

"You heard the King, George, off you go," She ordered condescendingly to the young man standing lankly behind her. The boy scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him, and the woman's sharp eyes watched him go before immediately targeting me.

"Good evening Prince Adam. How have you been?" She asked in an overly sugary tone that let me know she was still bitter about our last encounter.

If I were being honest I'd completely forgotten she would be here. But of course, she was the event planner, and had probably been running around these last few days getting everything ready for the Solstice Ball. I looked her over, only lingering for a moment so she wouldn't make any assumptions on how interested I was.

She was wearing a bright red gown that immediately struck me as 'tarty'. It looked far to young on someone like her. Though she was bone thin and covered head to toe in make-up that paled her skin, darkened her eyes and blooded her lips, the bright red dress looked most unbecoming. Tight and disproportionate to her body. Her hair was almost as bad, as the vivid blond strands hung over her face in tight curly ringlets, she looked rather like a dressed up poodle. With how much experience the woman had hosting these events, I would have at _least_ expected her to dress with some elegance and class, or even in uniform since she was technically working tonight, but I guessed that was too much to be asked of the older woman.

Not wanting my disdain made obvious to the king, I tipped my head in acknowledgement and greeted her, "I've been well Madam Angelique, and yourself?" I asked as though I cared, taking a small sip of brandy. I'd definitely need something stronger if she didn't leave.

"Oh well, you know me, I've been tiring myself to the bone ensuring this event is the best of the year. It's been simply exhausting doing everything all on my own, but none the less, the success of the evening more then compensates for all those sleepless nights." She replied sickeningly sweet, tilting her head to the side as though reassuring herself the king had listened to her little speech. What a fraud. She acted like she didn't have a team of nearly two hundred people doing everything for her while she no doubt sat in the corner and barked orders. And it wasn't like the _servants_ had anything to do with how marvellously well decorated the ballroom was. _No_ , she had hung every bauble, tinsel and wreath, prepared all the delicious food, handwritten every invitation and was seeing to every one of the guests' needs single-handedly. I almost scoffed in disgust but held myself back. It wouldn't do for the king to hear how sympathetic to the help I was becoming.

"Yes, the ballroom does look marvellous. You've definitely outdone yourself this year Angelique. I may have to increase your commission." The King quipped lightly, tipping his wine glass in acknowledgement.

Angelique's eyes gleamed at the mention of money, the greed practically oozing from her genuinely made me sick. I had to think up an excuse to leave. If the king wasn't here I would have just walked away, but I had to show proper respect to him. My eyes hunted around the lavish ballroom, looking for any opportunity, when the woman's rough voice cackled, "Well thank you, Your Majesty, The ballroom truly _does_ look splendid. Although, I'm afraid _certain_ imperfections were unavoidable."

Her tone turned as unpleasant as her personality, and I would have ignored it, but my curiosity peaked as her eyes narrowed at something across the room, and both myself and the king turned to see what she was referring.

My jaw clenched.

Belle was standing with Gaston across the hall. They were off a little to the side, not in anyone's way, but the conversation they were having appeared to be attracting quite a bit of attention.

She was dressed the same as all the other servers, in simple black and white attire, her silky brown hair up in a high ponytail, holding a tray with a few empty glasses. I couldn't quite tell how she was feeling, as her face was pulled in a stoic mask. Gaston, on the other hand, appeared angry. His mouth twisted in an unpleasant snarl as he gestured to her neckline. _What? What could they possibly be talking about?_ He went to reach out for her, only for Belle to take a small step back, denying his touch. It was at this point she seemed to realise how many people were staring at them, and her face lit with a deep red blush as her eyes made their way to me. We locked gazes for only a moment before she shifted to the king and blanched. My gaze shot to Silas, who was staring at the pair coldly enough to freeze summer, before my attention was seized by Gaston's fist around Belle's arm. He pulled her directly in front of him and at this point Belle's face turned pleading, her copper-coloured eyes darting nervously.

What was Gaston doing? Was he even aware of how much of a scene he was causing? Even though I couldn't hear what they were discussing Gaston was obviously agitated about something, but that was still no reason to go around accosting a servant in the middle of a crowded ballroom. That wasn't the sort of thing that went unnoticed, especially from someone of his standing.

I was ready to intervene, to march over there and stop whatever was going on, when Gaston finally released her. He didn't look happy as he took a step back, but Belle looked relieved none the less. He said something, downed the last few drops from his glass, placed it on the tray she was holding and marched off. Belle's face was a picture of embarrassment as she lowered her head to the ground and hurried through the ballroom's exit door, the one that led directly to the kitchens.

What the hell was that all about?

I mean, I knew Gaston didn't care about what people thought of him, but to behave so brashly in front of so many influential individuals...

I could only imagine the gossip that would run riot from that one single incident in the days to come. I winced. Poor Belle.

"Such unruly behaviour. It truly baffles me how someone of her station could be so undisciplined."

I glared at the woman. Did she not just see the same thing I did? Belle _clearly_ wanted to get _away_ from the situation, it was _Gaston_ perpetuating things. Belle wasn't to blame. Why couldn't this woman ever keep her fucking mouth shut?

"I know exactly what you mean," Silas commented darkly, his refined eyes staring at the door Belle had vanished through as though he wished to set the thing on fire. I nearly cringed. Of course, the king would not appreciate such an open display during his ball, but clearly, he could see it wasn't Belle's fault?

As soon as I had the thought I scoffed at myself.

Silas didn't like Belle. He most assuredly didn't like how much time Gaston spent with her. Of _course_ , he would blame Belle. It was far more convenient for his ego.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" _Please don't._ "Why not simply sack the girl? Surely she causes more trouble then she's worth. And with Prince Gaston's coronation so close, it seems most unbecoming that he occupies so much of his time with a mere _servant_." Angelique's mouth stretched in an unpleasant scowl at the word, her tone full of loathing. Silas's jaw clenched, from the woman's words or the fact that Angelique dared be so bold as to 'suggest' what he do in his own castle, I had no idea. I was hoping it was the latter since nothing would please me more than watching the high-and-mighty woman be cast out on her ass, but something told me the king was far more irritated with Belle and his son.

"Oh, no need to worry yourself Madam Angelique. I assure you, the girl won't be occupying my son's time for much longer."

His words had me choking in my glass.

Was he being serious? Was Silas really preparing to throw Belle out of the castle? It was clear from their previous encounters that Silas held a certain level of disdain for Belle, but why? From Belle's story, it seemed the only thing the king had to be angry about was that her father was no longer able to build machines for him. Thinking back to that day in the boiler room, I now understood why Belle reacted so harshly when the king had suggested a 'design error' being the reason behind the machine nearly destroying the whole castle. Yet, as far as I knew, the machine was still down there, still working wonders and saving the king heaps of gold every single day. What exactly did Silas have against Belle, that he constantly spoke of her in such a demeaning manner? Had something happened between them that had sparked such hatred? And if so, why not do as Angelique had suggested? Though it wasn't what I wanted, and I'd be loath to consider it, this _was_ his castle. If Silas truly didn't want Belle and her father here, why hadn't he simply evicted them before now? Gaston wanted them to stay, but Gaston wasn't king yet. If her presence in this castle was as disruptive as Silas had previously insisted, why keep her around?

Perhaps it had something to do with her father, or maybe Silas was simply indulging Gaston until his name-day celebration. He _was_ expected to pick a bride that night, after all, and when that day came, what would happen to Belle?

Everything was just so confusing. Belle had answered many of my questions and yet, there was still so little I truly understood. Why was there so much animosity between Belle and Silas? Why did Silas take every opportunity to insult her in front of Gaston? Was it simply because of the negative image that came with his son, the prince of Ingeniere, being intimate with a peasant? It would certainly make sense if so, but I couldn't rid myself of the suspicion that there was something more. Something was happening between the father and son and this one girl was somehow stuck in the middle of it all.

I pinched my nose, rubbing my forehead to try and sooth the headache away. This night was already turning horribly, and I'd only been here for half an hour.

Gods. I hated Christmas.

Luckily for me, just at that moment, the music began to play. Fife and his master orchestra were the centre of attention as the soothing music floated through the room. All guests stopped their conversations to indulge in the man's epic harmonies. Then, the first few couples approached the centre of the ball, and the dancing began. The king, in a gentlemanly gesture, held out his hand to Angelique, and the woman batted her eyelashes stupidly before placing her hand in his and following his lead to the dance floor.

Finally, some peace.

I walked around the outskirts for a while, making small talk with a few guests but overall keeping to myself. The music switched between smooth and calming to upbeat and lively, and many people had taken to the floor to dance with their partners or prospective suitors. I was lucky I hadn't been approached to dance yet, since I really wasn't in the mood to spread this fake festive cheer. The Maddington triplets had been trying to corner me, but every time I caught sight of one heading in my direction, I bolted, inserting myself in someone's conversation to appear too busy for them.

I just wanted to be left alone. The trip down memory lane hadn't helped my pensive attitude either. I hated thinking about my parents. Especially at this time of year. Why didn't they ever treat me like their son? Was I not _good_ _enough_ for them? Did they wish they had someone smarter, or more dedicated to their studies? I knew why my mother hated me, thanks to some snooping I had done the night of the Summer Festival ball right after their deaths, but my father... I was his heir. Would it have killed him to show me some kindness? Some tiny hint of love?

I shook my head. This was dangerous territory I was headed down. Thanks to Belle, I'd talked more about my parents in these last few months then I had with anyone my entire life, but that didn't mean I was ready to open up and start gushing my feelings everywhere. I had been doing that enough with Belle lately, but she was an exception. I was still a prince. And a man. I had to remember that.

I spent the next few hours talking and drinking. It wasn't so bad as long as I kept to myself most of the night. Swapping my empty glass of champagne for a fresh one off a passing servants tray, I was just about to take a mouthful when I saw Gaston across the ballroom. Coming straight towards me. _Fuck_.

In my effort to escape before I was forced to speak to him, I turned sharply and almost ploughed right into someone.

"Ah, young master. I've been looking everywhere for you." A sleek voice purred.

I froze.

Of course, he'd be here.

"D'arque." I murmured in greeting. My tone was colder than ice.

"How have you been keeping, Adam? I trust King Silas has been hospitable?" My deceitful head of council asked innocently, tipping a hefty glass of red liquid to his cracked pale lips and sipping elegantly. He even managed to make that simple act look menacing.

The man was dressed in all black. A black dress coat covered black slacks and a black bow tie tied sharply at the sagging skin of his neck. His thick white eyebrows were as long and unruly as ever, though he'd tied what little hair he had back at the nape of his neck, making him appear completely bald. He was grinning sharply. I almost cringed.

Why hadn't I realised..?

He held an important position in my kingdom. Was perhaps the wealthiest man in it excluding myself. Of _course_ , he would have been invited. But I hadn't prepared myself for seeing him. What did I do? Did I pull him aside and tell him I knew everything he'd been doing, and that I had proof? No, I couldn't do that, not yet. I still had yet to decide how I would punish the man for his deceit, and I still needed to know who else had been deceiving me with him.

Though I had no doubt he would expose any man involved in his little scheme if he thought he could save himself, I did not want to be the one asking for help. I wanted to be the one he begged to when I exposed his treachery; therefore, I had to know everything. I already had a few names. The men who had been writing those letters _had_ to have seen the discrepancies. Anyone trained in the art of accounting would have noticed, therefore every man who had written a letter was to be punished, and until I went through every single letter, I couldn't play my hand. It was torture though, knowing he was _still_ stealing from me. _Still_ living his lavish life in _my_ kingdom in _my_ castle with _my_ money while I was hiding in _this_ castle trying my hardest to catch up with him. It made me feel inferior. Like a child playing checkers while the adult played chess. Standing before this one single, menacing man made me feel like _I_ was that child. A child nowhere near fit to be king. And I hated it.

If he sensed my animosity he did nothing to address it. Merely sipped and sighed, soulless eyes hunting across the ballroom as though he were as bored by the celebration as I had been. It sickened me to the core that we may have had something in common at this moment.

"It's been fine," I remarked coolly, schooling my face in a hard mask, willing my anger to keep itself hidden.

The man merely chuckled at my tone. I wanted to punch that smile right off his crooked face.

"Well, not to worry young master, I actually have some rather good news for you." The older man said slickly. I raised my eyebrow in reluctant query.

"The east wing is extremely close to being fully renovated. I estimate it shouldn't take more than another two weeks, and then you will be free to return home once more."

My heart froze.

 _Two weeks? Just two more weeks? No. No, that's too soon. I'm not ready, I..._

My heart began to pound at an irregular speed as I felt my palms begin to sweat. I wasn't ready to go home. Not now! Not when there was so much I had yet to do! I swallowed thickly, air leaving my lungs as I felt my throat beginning to close. Shit. I couldn't do this. Not here.

"If you'll excuse me Monsieur D'arque, I need to get some air." I choked before leaving the man without a second glance. I hustled over to the balcony and stumbled through the double glass doors, hissing at a few people already lingering to leave. They scampered away like frightened animals as I staggered towards the balcony's ledge. Gripping the metal sharply, I forced my lungs to take in deep heavy breaths of air as my heartbeat slowly calmed. What just happened?

I had only ever felt that light-headed once. The night I was told my parents had perished. I'd struggled to breathe, black spots had appeared before my eyes and all I saw was darkness until I'd awoken the next morning. To have such a severe reaction, over something so arbitrary...

Why had I reacted that way?

It was true there were still things I had yet to accomplish. I had yet to find all the proof I needed to sentence my deceitful council. I had yet to resolve these lingering issues with my best friend. I had yet to watch him be coronated as the new king, but none of those things struck me as any reason why I would have responded so violently.

Yet in my heart, I knew the truth. Knew the real reason.

I wasn't ready to leave _her_ yet.

My feelings towards her had been growing stronger and stronger, far more potent then anything I'd ever felt before, even with Marie. I realised I'd come to depend on her in a strange way. When I was with her, there were no expectations of me. I didn't _have_ to be royalty of Fairalia, I didn't _have_ to be heir to the throne. I didn't _have_ to be a prince, or a king. I could just _be_.

I couldn't leave that behind.

I wouldn't.

What was I going to do?

 **AAA**

After my little panic attack, I spent a good hour on the balcony until the freezing temperature drove me back indoors. By then, it was nearing midnight and everyone was rather excited to wish each other a 'Merry Christmas.' I couldn't stand the atmosphere, and especially after the intense emotions I had just experienced, I didn't think I could take any more tonight.

I was inching my way over to the staircase, thinking I could quite possibly slip back to my room unnoticed with all the commotion going on, when something odd caught my eye.

Across the ballroom, I saw Belle again, only this time, she was speaking to another servant, looking quite distressed. Her eyes were wide with worry as she exchanged silent conversation with the server before he nodded his head and took her serving tray. She looked at him gratefully before hastily making her way towards the kitchens' exit door. Without even realising, my feet followed.

I hurried to catch up. I even heard my name being called several times but I didn't take any notice. Belle was fast approaching the door with a look of intense concern, and I felt like I _had_ to know what was troubling her so badly. I charged right through the throws of people still dancing to Fife's orchestra, getting strange and irritated looks from multiple guests but I didn't care. I kept my eyes on the bouncy bronze ponytail as she made it to the doors and slipped past another server walking through. In my haste to keep up with her, I knocked right into him, but didn't stop to apologise or help him pick up his fallen glasses as I chased after the elusive brunette beauty.

"Belle!" I called out her name, hoping to catch her before she was lost. This was a big castle. If I didn't know where she was going I doubted I could find her if she was fast enough. I willed myself to pick up speed, yelling her name as loud as I could as I pursued her around the corner of a long hallway. Either she couldn't hear me or she was ignoring me. Why would she ignore me? Turning the next corner, I caught her once again, headed towards a small staircase that led to the servants quarters. It was deserted, as every servant was attending to the ball. Why was she here, especially since I knew damn well she didn't sleep in the servants quarters.

"Belle!" I called out one more time, my voice rough and ragged from how out of breath I was. Surprisingly, this time she turned. She seemed shocked to see me, to say the least, and her face twisted in confusion as she took in my exhausted state.

"Adam? What are you doing out here? Why aren't you at the ball?"

"I could ask you the same question." I panted as I approached her. She at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"I was just coming to check on Fifi. She hasn't been feeling all that well for days and was excused from working tonight. But she told me earlier she was feeling better and would be fit enough to work the last few hours. When she didn't show, I got a little worried. I was only coming to check on her." She told me as though she feared she'd be reprimanded. I could have laughed as well as sighed in relief. I really thought it was something serious for a second there.

"Belle, I'm not going to tell anyone. I just saw you leave and was worried something was wrong. That was why I caught up with you." I explained breathlessly. She smiled at me affectionately, looking as relieved as I felt at the circumstances.

"Thank you, Adam," She told me kindly. "Can I go?"

Unbelievably, she _still_ felt as though she needed my permission.

"Of course, but I'll insist on accompanying you since I really don't want to be in there when it turns midnight." I shivered at the thought, causing Belle to giggle sweetly.

We walked in unison through the servants quarters, my eyes darting back and forth to her face the whole time. I couldn't believe I'd had such an extreme reaction to the thought of leaving her only an hour ago. What would she say if she knew? Would she find it disturbing? Creepy? Would she judge me for not being manly enough? I didn't think she would. Belle was never one to judge anyone. She was always so forgiving and generous. Always willing to see the best in people.

Only some of the many things I loved about her.

Wait, what?

Before I had time to question that rather abrupt thought, Belle was knocking on a dark wooden door.

"Fifi? Are you alright in there? You never came up like you said, do you need me to get something for you? Fifi?"

There was no response, it was possible the girl was sleeping, or perhaps wasn't even in her room. After a long pause, I was about to suggest we both start looking elsewhere, when a strange noise came from the other side of the door. It sounded like... a sob.

"Fifi?" Belle called, more alarmed this time, clearly having heard the noise as well.

"Fifi are you alright? Please say something!" We were met with only silence.

"Fifi, I'm coming in, alright?" Belle called out finally, before placing her hand on the doorknob and giving it a firm push. The door swung open without resistance, and there, sitting on a tiny bed in a dark, small, sparsely lit room, was the girl, sobbing quietly with her face in her hands.

"Fifi! What's wrong?!" Belle cried as she hurried towards the girl, sitting beside her and wrapping her arms around her quaking shoulders. I followed her in, feeling annoyed with this careless girl who was clearly worrying Belle so needlessly. She obviously heard her calling through the door. Why hadn't she answered? She was sick, not mute.

"Fifi, please, tell me what's wrong!" Belle was desperately trying to get the girl to speak, but the servant appeared to be crying so heavily she couldn't manage a single word. Being the caring, compassionate person she was, she placed her hand to the girl's forehead and nibbled her bottom lip worriedly.

"Alright, come on. I'm taking you to the hospice. You're clearly not well enough to be down here all on your own."

Belle tried to help the girl stand, but little Fifi was having none of it. She just stayed in the exact same spot, sobbing for apparently no reason at all, while Belle wasted effort trying to help.

I opened my mouth to reprimand her. The words were literally right on the tip of my tongue, when a cold, dark, deadly voice from somewhere behind me spoke.

"As adorable as your caring for my little whore is, sweet Belle, I'm afraid _no one_ is going _anywhere_!"


End file.
